ANNA    KARENINA 


COUNT  LYOF  N.  TOLSTOI. 


KAEENINA. 


BY 


COUNT  LYOF  N.  TOLSTOI. 


IN  EIGHT  PARTS. 


TRANSLATED  BY 


NATHAN  HASKELL  DOLE. 


NEW  YORK : 

THOMAS    Y.    CROWELL    &    CO., 
13  ASTOK  PLACE. 


COPYRIGHT,  1886, 
BY  T.  Y.  CEOWELL  &  CO. 


ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED 
BY  RAND,   AVERY,   AND   COMPANY, 

BOSTON. 


INTRODUCTION. 


To  preserve,  so  far  as  possible,  the  spirit  and  style  of  the 
original,  has  been  the  translator's  aim  in  presenting,  for 
the  first  time  to  English  readers,  Count  Tolstoi's  great  novel, 
"ANNA  KAKENINA." 

After  the  present  translation  was  begun,  an  anonymous 
French  paraphrase  appeared.  In  order  to  hasten  the  prepa- 
ration of  this  volume  for  the  press,  that  version  has  been 
used  in  a  few  passages,  but  always  with  the  Russian 
original  at  hand.  It  is  a  novel  which,  in  spite  of  some 
faults  of  repetition,  easily  stands  in  the  front  rank  of  the 
great  romances  of  the  world.  Its  moral  lesson  is  wonderful, 
—  perhaps  equalled  only  by  that  of  George  Eliot's  ' '  Rornola. ' ' 
The  sympathy  of  the  reader  will  doubtless  be  moved  by  the 
passion  of  the  ill-fated  Anna.  Married  without  love  to  a 
man  old  enough  to  be  her  father,  falling  under  the  fascina- 
tion of  one  whom,  under  happier  auspices,  she  might  have 
wedded  with  happiness  and  honor,  she  takes  the  law  into  her 
own  hands.  As  a  recent  French  critic  says,  the  loves  of 
Vronsky  and  Anna  are  almost  chaste.  But  lovely  though 
she  be,  intellectual  and  brilliant,  the  highest  type  of  a 
woman  of  the  best  society,  she  finds  that  she  cannot  defy 
the  law.  The  mills  of  the  gods  grind  slowly,  but  the  end  is 
inevitable. 

Polevoi,  in  his  illustrated  "History  of  Russian  Litera- 
ture," says  of  this  story  :  "  Count  Tolstoi  dwells  with  espe- 
cial fondness  on  the  sharp  contrast  between  the  frivolity, 
the  tinsel  brightness,  the  tumult  and  vanity,  of  the  worldly 
life,  and  the  sweet,  holy  calm  enjoyed  by  those  who,  pos- 
sessing the  soil,  live  amid  the  beauties  of  Nature  and  the 
pleasures  of  the  family."  This  contrast  will  strike  the 
attention  of  every  reader.  It  is  the  outgrowth  of  Count 

iii 


2032473 


IV  INTRODUCTION. 

Tolstoi's  own  life,  a  brief  sketch  of  which  may  be  accept- 
able. 

Count  Lyof  Nikolayevitch  Tolsto'i  was  born  on  the  2sth 
of  August,  o.  s.  1828,  at  Yasnaia  Polyana,  in  the  Govern- 
ment of  Tula.  His  father  was  a  retired  lieutenant-colonel, 
who  traced  his  ancestry  to  Count  Piotr  Andreyevitch  Tolstoi, 
a  friend  and  companion  of  Peter  the  Great.  His  mother 
was  the  Princess  Marya  Nikolayevna  Volkonska'ia,  the  only 
daughter  of  Prince  Nikolai  Sergeyevitch  Volkonsky.  She 
died  when  he  was  but  two  years  old  ;  and  a  distant  relative, 
Tatyana  Aleksandrovna  Yergolskaia,  took  charge  of  the 
training  of  the  family.  In  1838  they  all  went  to  live  in 
Moscow,  where  the  eldest  sou,  Nikolai,  was  pursuing  his 
studies  in  the  university.  But  the  following  summer  the 
father  died  suddenly,  leaving  his  affairs  in  confusion ;  and 
Theodore  Russell,  the  German  tutor,  and  Prosper  Saint 
Thomas,  the  French  tutor,  both  of  whom  figure  in  Count 
Tolstoi's  novels,  had  to  be  dismissed  ;  and  the  family  was 
divided.  The  two  elder  brothers  remained  in  Moscow  with 
their  paternal  aunt,  the  Countess  Aleksandra  Ilinishna 
Osten-Sacken;  and  Lyof,  with  his  brother  Dmitri  and  his 
sister  Marya,  were  taken  back  to  Yasnaia  Polyana  by  Ma- 
dame Yergolskaia.  Here  they  enjoyed  a  rather  desultory 
education,  —  now  under  German  tutors,  and  now  under  Rus- 
sian seminarists.  Jn  1840  the  Countess  Osten-Sacken  died  ; 
and  all  the  Tolstois  were  taken  by  their  paternal  aunt, 
Pelagia  Ilinishna  Yushkovaia,  who  lived  with  her  husband 
at  Kazan.  Nikolai  left  the  University  of  Moscow,  and 
entered  that  of  Kazan. 

In  1843  Count  Lyof  also  entered  the  university,  and  took 
up  the  study  of  Oriental  languages  ;  but  at  the  end  of  a  year 
he  exchanged  that  course  for  the  law,  which  occupied  his 
attention  for  two  years  more.  But  when  his  brothers  passed 
their  final  examination,  and  went  back  to  the  old  estate,  he 
suddenly  determined  to  leave  the  university  without  gradu- 
ation, and  returned  to  Yasnaia  Polyana,  where  he  lived  until 
1851.  In  that  year  his  favorite  brother,  Nikolai,  came  home 
from  the  Caucasus,  where  he  was  serving.  He  inspired 
Count  Lyof  with  "the  desire  to  see  new  lands,  and  new 
people."  He  returned  with  Nikolai',  and  found  the  splendid 
scenery  and  the  wild,  unconventional  life  of  this  region, 
which  Pushkin,  Lermontof,  and  other  great  Russian  poets 
had  described  in  their  verse,  so  fascinating,  that  he  entered 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

the  service,  as  a  yuiiker  in  the  fourth  battery  of  the  Twen- 
tieth Artillery  Brigade,  where  his  brother  held  the  rank  of 
captain. 

Here  in  the  Caucasus,  Count  Tolstoi'  first  began  to  write 
fiction.  He  planned  a  great  romance,  which  should  embrace 
his  early  recollections  and  the  traditions  of  his  family. 
His  three  stories,  "Infancy"  (Dyetstoo),  "Adolescence" 
(O'rotchestvo),  and  "Youth"  (Tunost).  "Youth"  was 
published  in  1852,  in  the  "  Contemporary  "  (Sovremennik) . 
In  the  Caucasus  he  also  wrote  his  popular  sketches  of  war- 
life,  "The  Incursion"  (Nabyey),  "The  Cutting  of  the 
Forest"  (Rubka  Lyesa),  and  his  novel,  "The  Cossaks  " 
(Kazaki) ,  which  did  not  appear  till  later. 

Count  Tolstoi  lived  nearly  three  years  in  the  Caucasus, 
taking  part  in  numerous  expeditions,  and  enduring  all  the 
privations  which  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  common  soldiers.  He 
thus  gathered  the  materials  for  his  remarkable  "  War 
Sketches"  (Voyennuie  Razskazui).  When  the  Eastern 
war  broke  out,  Count  Tolstoi  was  transferred,  at  his  own 
request,  to  the  army  of  the  Danube,  and  was  on  Prince  M. 
D.  Gortchakof's  staff.  Later  he  took  part  in  the  famous 
defence  of  Sevastopol,  and  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of 
division  commander.  After  the  storming  of  Sevastopol,  he 
was  sent  as  special  courier  to  St.  Petersburg.  At  this  time 
he  wrote  his  two  sketches,  "Sevastopol  in  December,"  and 
"  Sevastopol  in  May."  After  the  war  he  retired  to  private 
life,  and  for  several  years  spent  the  winter  months  in  Pe- 
tersburg and  Moscow,  and  his  summers  on  his  estate.  These 
years  were  the  culmination  of  his  literary  activity.  His 
story,  "Youth"  (Yurtost),  which  he  had  written  in  Cir- 
cassia,  as  well  as  the  tales,  "  Sevastopol  in  August,"  "  The 
Two  Hussars,"  and  "The  Three  Deaths,"  appeared  about 
the  same  time,  in  the  magazines.  He  began  to  be  recog- 
nized as  one  of  Russia's  greatest  writers. 

The  emancipation  of  the  serfs  [fcre«fyanw»],  in  1861, 
stirred  his  interest  in  agronomic  questions  ;  and,  like  Kon- 
stantin  Levin,  he  went  to  study  these  questions  in  other  coun- 
tries of  Europe.  He  also  felt  it  his  duty  to  live  constantly 
on  his  estate  ;  and  he  became  justice,  or  judge,  of  the  peace 
[mirovoi' sudyd],  and  was  interested  in  the  establishment  of 
a  pedagogical  journal,  called  after  the  name  of  the  place, 
"  Yasnaia  Polyana."  In  1862  he  married  Sofia  Andreyevna 
Beers,  the  daughter  of  a  Moscow  doctor,  who  held  a  chair  in  the 


Vi  IN  TR  OD  UCTION. 

university,  and  whose  wife's  family  estates  were  situated 
not  far  from  Yasnaia  Polyana.  He  had  alread}'  published  his 
story,  "War  and  Peace"  [Voind  t'3//r],  which  described  the 
events  of  the  year  1812  with  a  master-hand.  Great  things 
were  predicted  and  expected  of  Count  Tolstoi ;  but  he  de- 
voted himself  with  renewed  interest  to  his  efforts  in  the  direc- 
tion of  popular  education,  and,  for  more  than  ten  years, 
published  nothing  but  spellers  and  readers  for  the  use  of 
district  schools. 

In  1873  a  famine  was  raging  in  a  distant  province ;  and 
Count  Tolstoi  wrote  a  brief  and  telling  letter  to  one  of  the 
Moscow  newspapers,  drawing  public  attention  to  it.  He 
also  went  personally  to  the  famine-stricken  province,  and 
made  a  report  upon  the  condition  of  the  peasantry,  and  what 
he  saw.  The  letter  had  its  effect,  and  help  was  sent,  both  by 
government  and  by  private  individuals. 

In  1875  Count  Tolstoi  began  the  publication  of  "  Anna 
Karenina  "  in  the  pages  of  the  "Russian  Messenger" 
\_Rnsxki  Vyestnik'}.  The  publication  of  this  work  con- 
tinued, not  for  months  alone,  but  for  years,  and  still  kept 
public  attention.  Not  even  a  break  of  some  months  be- 
tween two  of  the  parts  was  sufficient  to  cool  the  interest 
of  its  readers.  Its  power  is  immense.  After  reading  it,  real 
life  seems  like  fiction,  and  fiction  like  real  life.  There  is 
not  a  detail  added  that  does  not  increase  the  effect  of  this 
realism.  In  certain  scenes,  indeed,  the  realism  is  too  intense 
for  our  Puritan  taste  ;  and,  perforce,  several  of  these  scenes 
have  been  more  or  less  modified  in  the  present  translation. 
For  the  most  part,  the  translation  follows  the  original.  In 
order  to  preserve,  so  far  as  possible,  the  Russian  flavor  of 
the  story,  many  characteristic  Russian  words  have  been  em- 
ployed, always  accompanied  by  their  meaning,  and  generally 
accented  properly.  A  glossary  of  those  used  more  than  once 
will  be  found.  This  use  of  Russian  words  was  adopted  after 
some  deliberation,  and  in  spite  of  the  risk  of  seeming  affec- 
tation. The  spelling  of  these  words,  and  of  the  proper 
names,  is  a  bog  in  which  it  is  almost  impossible  not  to  get 
foundered.  Consistency  would  seem  to  demand  one  of  two 
courses,  —  either  to  spell  all  words  as  they  are  spelled  in 
Russian,  or  to  spell  them  as  they  are  pronounced.  Accord- 
ing to  the  first  method,  the  name  Catherine  would  be  spelled 
Ekaterina;  according  to  the  other,  Yekatyerina.  According 
to  the  one,  the  word  for  father  would  be  otets;  according  to 


INTRODUCTION.  vii 

the  other,  atyets.  The  translator  lays  not  the  slightest  claim 
to  consistenc}'.  The  same  letter  he  has  sometimes  repre- 
sented by  the  diphthong  ia,  sometimes  by  ya.  He  has  also 
used  the  numerous  diminutives  for  proper  names,  which  are 
so  characteristic  of  Russian  ;  and,  in  order  that  there  may  be 
no  confusion,  he  has  made  a  list  of  the  principal  characters, 
with  their  aliases.  The  Russians  use  many  interjections ; 
and  the  simpler  of  them  have  been  introduced,  for  the  same 
purpose  of  imparting  the  foreign  flavor.  In  some  cases,  the 
terms  "Madame"  and  "Mr."  have  been  used;  but  in 
Russian,  the  difference  in  sex  is  shown  by  the  termination. 
Thus,  the  wife  of  Alekse'i  Aleksaudrovitch  Kare"nin  is  spoken 
of  either  as  Anna  Arkadyevna,  or  simply  as  Kare"nina. 
Thus,  Prince  Tverskoi  and  the  Princess  Tverskai'a.  'It  will 
be  noticed  that  all  characters  bear  two  names  besides  the 
family  name.  The  first  is  the  baptismal  name,  the  second 
is  the  patronymic.  Thus,  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch  means 
Alexis,  the  son  of  Alexander :  Anna  Arkadyevna  means 
Anna,  the  daughter  of  Arcadius.  This  nomenclature  is  a 
relic  of  the  patriarchal  family  system,  and  is  paralleled  in 
many  countries  :  as,  for  example,  in  Scotland,  where  Tarn 
MacTavish  means  Thomas  Davidson  ;  or  in  Wales,  where 
every  man  has  an  Ap  to  his  name.  The  term  translated 
"  prince,"  perhaps,  needs  some  explanation.  A  Russian 
prince  may  be  a  boot-black  or  a  ferryman.  The  word  kniaz 
denotes  a  descendant  of  any  of  the  hundreds  of  petty  rulers, 
who,  before  the  time  of  the  unification  of  Russia,  held  the 
land.  They  all  claim  descent  from  the  semi-mythical  Rurik ; 
and  as  every  son  of  a  kniaz  bears  the  title,  it  may  be  easily 
imagined  how  numerous  they  are.  The  term  prince,  there- 
fore, is  really  a  too  high-sounding  title  to  represent  it. 

It  need  scarcely  be  added,  after  what  has  been  said  of  the 
author,  that  he  has  evidently  painted  himself  in  the  character 
of  Levin.  His  fondness  for  the  muzhik,  his  struggles  with 
doubts,  his  final  emergence  into  the  light  of  faith,  are  all 
paralleled  in  this  country  proprietor,  whose  triumph  brings 
the  book  to  a  close.  It  is  interesting  to  turn  from  "  My 
Religion"  to  the  evolution  of  this  character,  who  seems 
vaguely  to  forebode  some  such  spiritual  transformation.  At 
all  events,  the  teaching  of  the  story  cannot  fail  to  be  con- 
sidered in  the  highest  degree  moral  and  stimulating. 

NATHAN  HASKELL  DOLE. 


CHIEF  PERSONS  OF  THE   STORY. 


Alekse"!  Aleksandrovitch  Karenin. 

Anna  Arkadyevna  Karenina. 

Count  Aleksei  Kirillovitch  Vronsky  (Alosha). 

His  mother,  Countess  Yronskaia. 

Prince  (Kniaz)  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  Oblonsky  (Stiva). 

Princess  (Kniayina)  Darya  Aleksandrovna  Oblonskaia  (Dolly,  D6- 
linka,  Dashenka). 

Konstantin  (Kostia)  Dmitriyevitch  (Dmitritch)  Levin,  proprietor  of 
Pokrovsky. 

His  half-brother,  Sergei  Ivanovitch  (Ivanuitch,  Ivanitch)  Koznuishef. 

Prince  Aleksander  Shcherbatsky. 

Princess  Shcherbatska'ia. 

Their  daughter,  Ekaterina  (Kitty,  Katyonka,  Katerina,  Katya)  Alek- 
sandrovna Shcherbatska'ia,  afterwards  Levina. 


ANNA    KARENINA. 


PART   I. 

"  Vengeance  is  mine,  I  win  repay." 

I. 

ALL  happ3T  families  resemble  one  another,  every  unhappy 
family  is  unhappy  after  its  own  fashion. 

Confusion  reigned  in  the  house  of  the  Oblonskys.  The 
wife  had  discovered  that  her  husband  was  too  attentive  to 
the  French  governess  who  had  been  in  their  employ,  and  she 
declared  that  she  could  not  live  in  the  same  house  with  him. 
For  three  days  this  situation  had  lasted,  and  the  torment  was 
felt  by  the  parties  themselves  and  by  all  the  members  of  the 
family  and  the  domestics.  All  the  members  of  the  family 
and  the  domestics  felt  that  there  was  no  sense  in  their  trying 
to  live  together  longer,  and  that  in  every  hotel  people  who 
meet  casually  had  more  mutual  interests  than  they,  the 
members  of  the  family  and  the  domestics  of  the  house  of 
Oblonsky.  Madame  did  not  come  out  of  her  own  rooms  :  it 
was  now  the  third  day  that  the  husband  had  not  been  at 
home.  The  children  ran  over  the  whole  house  as  though 
they  were  crazy  ;  the  English  maid  quarrelled  with  the  house- 
keeper and  wrote  to  a  friend,  begging  her  to  find  her  a  new 
place.  The  head  cook  went  off  the  evening  before  just  at 
dinner-time  ;  the  black  cook  and  the  coachman  demanded 
their  wages. 

On  the  third  day  after  the  quarrel,  Prince  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch  Oblousky  —  Stiva,  as  he  was  known  in  society  — 
awoke  at  the  usual  hour,  that  is  to  say  about  eight  o'clock, 
not  in  his  wife's  chamber,  but  in  his  library,  on  a  leather- 

5 


6  ANNA  KABtiNINA. 

covered  lounge.  He  turned  his  pampered  form  over  on  the 
springs  of  the  lounge.  In  his  efforts  to  catch  another  nap, 
he  took  the  cushion  and  hugged  it  close  to  his  other  cheek. 
But  suddenly  he  sat  up  and  opened  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  well !  how  was  it?  "  he  thought,  recalling  a  dream. 
"Yes,  how  was  it?  Yes!  Alabin  gave  a  dinner  at  Darm- 
stadt ;  no,  not  at  Darmstadt,  but  it  was  something  American. 
res,  but  this  Darmstadt  was  in  America.  Yes,  Alabin  gave 
a  dinner  on  glass  tables,  yes,  and  the  tables  sang,  '  II  mio 
ti-xnro : '  no,  not  '  II  mio  tesoro,'  but  something  better;  and 
some  little  decanters,  they  were  women  !  "  said  he,  continuing 
his  recollections. 

Prince  Stepan's  eyes  gleamed  with  303"  and  he  smiled  as 
he  thought,  "  Yes,  it  was  good,  very  good.  It  was  extremely 
elegant,  but  you  can't  tell  it  in  words,  and  you  can't  express 
the  reality  even  in  thought."  Then  noticing  a  ray  of  sun- 
light that  came  through  the  side  of  one  of  the  heavy  curtains, 
he  gayly  set  foot  down  from  the  lounge,  found  his  gilt  leather 
slippers  —  they  had  been  embroidered  for  him  by  his  wife  the 
year  before  as  a  birthday  present  —  and  according  to  the  old 
custom  which  he  had  kept  up  for  nine  years,  without  rising, 
he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  place  where  in  his  chamber 
lie  hung  his  dressing-gown.  And  then  he  suddenly  remem- 
bered how  and  why  he  had  slept,  not  in  his  wife's  chamber, 
but  in  the  library  ;  the  smile  vanished  from  his  face  and  he 
frowned. 

"  Ach  !  ach  !  ach  !  ah,"  he  groaned,  recollecting  every  thing 
that  had  occurred.  And  before  his  mind  arose  once  more 
all  the  details  of  the  quarrel  with  his  wife,  all  the  hopeless- 
ness of  his  situation,  and  most  lamentable  of  all,  his  own 
fault. 

"No!  she  will  not  and  she  can  not  forgive  me.  And 
what  is  the  worst  of  it,  'twas  all  my  own  fault  —  my  own 
fault,  and  yet  I  am  not  to  blame.  It's  all  like  a  drama,"  he 
thought.  "Ach!  ach!  ach!"  he  kept  murmuring  in  his 
desp.-iir,  as  he  revived  the  unpleasant  memories  of  this 
quarrel. 

Most  disagreeable  of  all  was  that  first  moment  when 
returning  from  the  theatre,  happy  and  self-satisfied,  with  a 
monstrous  pear  for  his  wife  in  his  hand,  he  did  not  find  her 
in  the  sitting-room,  did  not  find  her  in  the  library,  and  at 
last  saw  her  in  her  chamber  holding  the  fatal  letter  which 
revealed  all. 


ANNA 

She,  his  Dolly,  this  forever  busy  and  fussy  and  foolish 
creature  as  he  always  looked  upon  her.  sat  motionless  with 
the  note  in  her  hand,  and  looked  at  him  with  an  expression 
of  terror,  despair  and  wrath. 

"What  is  this?  This?"  she  demanded,  pointing  to  the 
note. 

Prince  Stepan's  torment  at  this  recollection  was  caused 
less  by  the  fact  itself  than  by  the  answer  which  he  gave  to 
these  words  of  his  wife.  His  experience  at  that  moment 
was  the  same  that  other  people  have  had  when  unexpectedly 
caught  in  some  shameful  deed.  He  was  unable  to  prepare 
his  face  for  the  situation  caused  by  his  wife's  discovery  of 
his  sin.  Instead  of  getting  offended,  or  denying  it,  or  jus- 
tifying himself,  or  asking  forgiveness,  or  showing  indiffer- 
ence —  any  thing  would  have  been  better  than  what  he  really 
did  —  in  spite  of  himself,  b}"  a  reflex  action  of  the  brain  as 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  explained  it,  for  he  loved  Physiology, 
absolutely  in  spite  of  himself  he  suddenly  smiled  with  his 
ordinary  good-humored  and  therefore  stupid  smile. 

He  could  not  forgive  himself  for  that  stupid  smile.  When 
Dolly  saw  that  smile,  she  trembled  as  with  physical  pain, 
poured  forth  a  torrent  of  bitter  words,  quite  in  accordance 
with  her  natural  temper,  and  fled  from  the  room.  Since  that 
time  she  had  not  wanted  to  see  her  husband. 

"That  stupid  smile  caused  the  whole  trouble,"  thought 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  But  what  is  to  be  done  about  it?  "  he  asked  himself  in 
despair,  and  found  no  answer. 


II. 

STEPAN  ARKADYEVITCH  was  a  sincere  man  as  far  as  he  him- 
self was  concerned.  He  could  not  deceive  himself  and  per- 
suade himself  that  he  repented  of  what  he  had  done.  He 
could  not  feel  sorry  that  he.  a  handsome,  susceptible  man  of 
four  and  thirty,  did  not  now  love  his  wife,  the  mother  of  his 
seven  children,  five  of  whom  were  living,  though  she  was 
only  a  year  his  junior.  He  regretted  only  that  he  had  not 
succeeded  in  hiding  it  better  from  her.  But  he  felt  the  whole 
weight  of  the  situation  and  pitied  his  wife,  his  children  and 
himself.  Possibly  he  would  have  had  better  success  in 
deceiving  his  wife  had  he  realized  that  this  news  would  have 


H-  ANNA 

had  such  an  effect  upon  her.  Evidently  this  view  of  it  had 
never  occurred  to  him  before,  but  he  had  a  dim  idea  that  his 
wife  was  aware  of  his  infidelity  and  looked  at  it  through  her 
finders.  As  she  had  lost  her  freshness,  was  beginning  to 
look  old,  was  no  longer  pretty  and  far  from  distinguished 
and  entirely  commonplace,  though  she  was  an  excellent  ma- 
tron, he  had  thought  that  she  would  allow  her  innate  sense 
of  justice  to  plead  for  him.  But  it  proved  to  be  quite  the 

contrary. 

"  O  bow  wretched !  ay!  ay!  ay!"  said  Prince  Stepan  to 
himself  over  and  over.  He  could  not  collect  his  thoughts. 
"  And  how  well  every  thing  was  going  until  this  happened  ! 
How  delightfully  we  lived!  She  was  content,  happy  with 
the  children;  I  never  interfered  with  her  in  any  way,  I 
allowed  her  to  do  as  she  pleased  with  the  children  and  the 
household!  To  be  sure  it  was  bad  that  she  had  been  our 
own  governess  ;  'twas  bad.  There  is  something  trivial  and 
common  in  playing  the  gallant  to  one's  own  governess  !  But 
what  a  governess  !  [He  gave  a  quick  thought  to  Mile.  Ro- 
land's black  roguish  eyes  and  hei* smile.]  But  as  long  as  she 
was  here  in  the  house  with  us  I  did  not  permit  myself  any 
liberties.  And  the  worst  of  all  is  that  she  is  already.  .  .  . 
Every  thing  happens  just  to  spite  me.  Ay  !  ay  !  ay  !  But 
what,  what  is  to  be  done?  " 

There  was  no  answer  except  that  common  answer  which 
life  gives  to  all  the  most  complicated  and  insoluble  questions. 
Her  answer  is  this:  You  must  live  according  to  circum- 
stances, in  other  words,  forget  yourself.  But  as  you  cannot 
forget  yourself  in  sleep  —  at  least  till  night,  as  you  cannot 
return  to  that  music  which  the  decanter-women  sang,  there- 
fore you  must  forget  yourself  in  the  dream  of  life  ! 

"We  shall  see  by  and  by,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to 
himself,  and  rising  he  put  on  his  gray  dressing-gown  with 
blue  silk  lining,  tied  the  tassels  into  a  hast}"  knot,  and  took 
a  full  breath  into  his  ample  lungs.  Then  with  his  usual  firm 
step  he  went  over  to  the  window,  where  he  lifted  the  curtain 
and  loudly  rang  the  bell.  It  was  answered  by  his  old  friend, 
the  valet  de  chambre  Matv6,  bringing  his  clothes,  boots  and  a 
telegram.  Behind  Matve"  came  the  barber  with  the  shaving 
utensils. 

"Are  there  any  papers  from  the  court-house?"  asked 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  taking  the  telegram  and  placing  him- 
self before  the  mirror. 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  9 

.  .  .  "On  the  breakfast- table,"  replied  Matv6,  looking 
with  inquiry  and  interest  at  his  master,  and  after  an  instant's 
pause  added  with  a  cunning  smile,  "  I  just  came  from  the 
boss  of  the  livery-stable." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  answered  not  a  word,  but  he  looked 
at  Matve  in  the  mirror.  In  their  interchange  of  glances  it 
could  be  seen  how  they  understood  each  other.  The  look  of 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  seemed  to  ask,  "  Why  did  you  say 
that?  Don't  you  know?" 

Matve  thrust  his  hands  in  his  sack-coat  pockets,  kicked  out 
his  leg,  and  with  an  almost  imperceptible  smile  on  his  good- 
natured  face,  looked  back  to  his  master :  — 

"  I  ordered  him  to  come  next  Sunda}-,  and  till  then  that 
you  and  I  should  not  be  annoyed  without  reason,"  said  he, 
with  a  phrase  apparently  ready  on  his  tongue. 

Prince  Stepan  perceived  that  Matv6  wanted  to  jest  and 
attract  attention  to  himself.  He  tore  open  the  telegram 
and  read  it,  guessing  at  the  words  that  were  written  in  -cipher, 
and  his  face  brightened. 

..."  Matve",  sister  Anna  Arkadyevna  is  coming,"  said 
he,  staying  for  a  moment  the  plump,  gleaming  hand  of  his 
barber  who  was  trying  to  make  a  pink  path  through  his  long, 
curly  whiskers. 

"  Thank  God,"  cried  Matve,  showing  by  this  exclamation 
that  he  understood  as  well  as  his  master  the  significance  of 
this  arrival,  that  it  meant  that  Anna  Arkadyevna,  Prince 
Stepan 's  loving  sister,  might  effect  a  reconciliation  between 
husband  and  wife. 

"  Alone  or  with  her  husband?  "  asked  Matv£. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  could  not  speak,  as  the  barber  was 
engaged  on  his  upper  lip,  but  he  lifted  one  finger.  Matv£ 
nodded  his  head  toward  the  mirror. 

"  Alone.     Get  her  room  ready?  " 

"  Report  to  Darya  Aleksaudrovua,  and  let  her  decide." 

"To  Darya  Aleksandrovna?  "  reported  Matve"  rather 
sceptically. 

"  Yes  !  report  to  her.  And  here,  take  the  telegram,  give 
it  to  her  and  do  as  she  says." 

"You  want  to  tiy  an  experiment,"  was  the  thought  in 
Matve's  mind,  but  he  only  said,  "  I  will  obey  !  " 

By  this  time  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  finished  his  bath 
and  his  toilet,  and  was  just  putting  on  his  clothes,  when 
Matv6,  stepping  slowly  with  squeaking  boots,  and  holding  the 


10  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

telegram  in  his  hand,  returned  to  the  room.  .  .  .  The  barber 
was  no  longer  there. 

"•  Darya  Aleksandrovna  bade  me  tell  you  she  is  going 
away.  .  .  .  To  do  just  as  they  —  as  you  —  please  about  it," 
said  Matv6  with  a  smile  lurking  in  his  eyes.  Thrusting  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  bending  his  head  to  one  side,  he 
looked  at  his  master.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  silent. 
Then  a  good-humored  and  rather  pitiful  smile  lighted  up  his 
handsome  face. 

"  Hey?  Matve"  ?  "  he  said,  shaking  his  head. 

t;  It's  nothing,  sir;  she  will  come  to  her  senses,"  an- 
swered Matv£. 

'•  Will  come  to  her  senses?  " 

"  JStysactly." 

"  Do  you  think  so?  —  "Who  is  there?"  asked  Stepan  Ar- 
kadyevitch, hearing  the  rustle  of  a  woman's  dress  behind 
the  door. 

"  It's  me,"  said  a  powerful  and  pleasant  female  voice, 
and  in  the  door-way  appeared  the  severe  and  pimply  face  of 
Matriona  Filimonovna,  the  nurse. 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  Matriosha?  "  asked  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch, meeting  her  at  the  door. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was 
entirely  in  the  wrong  as  regarded  his  wife,  as  he  himself  con- 
fessed, still  almost  every  one  in  the  house,  even  the  old 
nurse,  Daiya's  chief  friend,  was  on  his  side. 

"  Well,  what?"  he  asked  gloomily. 

"  You  go  down,  sir,  ask  her  forgiveness,  just  once.  Per- 
haps the  Lord  will  bring  it  out  right.  She  is  tormenting  her- 
self grievously,  and  it  is  pitiful  to  see  her ;  and  every  thing 
in  the  house  is  going  criss-cross.  The  children,  sir,  you 
must  have  pity  on  them.  -Ask  her  forgiveness,  sir !  What 
is  to  be  done?  If  you  like  to  coast  down  hill  you've  got 
to  .  .  ." 

u  But  she  won't  accept  an  apology  ..." 

"But  you  do  your  part.  God  is  merciful,  sir:  pray  to 
God." 

"  Very  well,  then,  come  on,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
suddenly  blushing.  —  "  Very  well,  let  me  have  my  things," 
said  he,  turning  to  Matve",  and  resolutely  throwing  off  his 
dressing-gown. 

Matve  had  every  thing  all  ready  for  him,  and  stood 
blowing  off  invisible  dust  from  the  shirt  stiff  as  a  horse 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  11 

collar,  in  which  he  proceeded  with  evident   satisfaction  to 
invest  his  master's  luxurious  form. 


III. 

HAVING  dressed,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  sprinkled  himself 
with  cologne,  straightened  the  sleeves  of  his  shirt,  according 
to  his  wont,  filled  his  pockets  with  cigarettes,  portemonnaie, 
matches,  and  his  watch  with  its  locket  and  double  chain,  and 
shaking  out  his  handkerchief,  feeling  clean,  well-perfumed, 
healthy  and  happy  in  body,  if  not  in  mind,  went  out  to  the 
dining-room,  where  his  coffee  was  already  waiting  for  him, 
and  next  the  coffee  his  letters  and  the  papers  from  the  court- 
house. 

He  read  his  letters.  One  was  very  disagreeable, — from 
a  merchant  who  was  negotiating  for  the  purchase  of  a  forest 
on  his  wife's  estate.  It  was  necessary  to  sell  this  wood, 
but  now  there  could  be  nothing  done  about  it  until  a  recon- 
ciliation was  effected  with  his  wife.  Most  unpleasant  it  was 
to  think  that  his  interests  in  this  approaching  transaction 
were  complicated  with  his  reconciliation  to  his  wife.  And 
the  thought  that  this  interest  might  be  his  motive,  that  his 
desire  for  a  reconciliation  with  his  wife  was  caused  by  his 
desire  to  sell  the  forest,  this  thought  worried  him. 

Having  finished  his  letters  Stepau  Arkadyevitch  took  up 
the  papers  from  the  court-house,  rapidly  turned  over  the 
leaves  of  two  deeds,  made  several  notes  with  a  big  pencil, 
and  then  pushing  them  away,  took  his  coffee.  While  he  was 
drinking  it  he  opened  a  morning  journal  still  damp,  and 
began  to  read. 

It  was  a  liberal  paper  which  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  sub- 
scribed to  and  read.  It  was  not  extreme  in  its  views,  but 
advocated  those  principles  which  the  majority  hold.  And 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was  not  interested  in  science  or 
art  or  politics,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  he  strongly 
adhered  to  the  views  on  all  such  subjects,  as  the  majority, 
including  this  paper,  advocated,  and  he  changed  them  only 
when  the  majority  changed  ;  or  more  correctly,  he  did  not 
change  them,  but  they  changed  themselves  imperceptibly. 

Prince  Stepan  never  chose  a  line  of  action  or  an  opinion, 
but  thought  and  action  were  alike  suggested  to  him,  just  as 
he  never  chose  the  shape  of  a  hat  or  coat,  but  took  those 


12  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

that  were  fashionable.  And  for  one  who  lived  in  the  upper 
ten,  through  the  necessity  of  some  mental  activity,  it  was  as 
indispensable  to  have  views  as  to  have  a  hat.  If  there  was 
any  reason  why  he  preferred  a  liberal  rather  than  the  conser- 
vative direction  which  some  of  his  circle  followed,  it  was  not 
that  he  found  a  liberal  tendency  more  rational,  but  that  it 
better  suited  his  mode  of  life.  The  liberal  party  said  that 
every  thing  in  Russia  was  wretched ;  and  the  fact  was,  that 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  a  good  many  debts  and  was  decid- 
edly short  of  money.  The  liberal  party  said  that  marriage 
was  a  defunct  institution  and  that  it  needed  to  be  remodelled. 
And  the  fact  was,  that  domestic  life  afforded  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch very  little  pleasure,  and  compelled  him  to  lie,  and  to 
assume  that  it  was  contrary  to  his  nature.  The  liberal  party 
said,  or  rather  took  it  for  granted,  that  religion  was  only  a 
curb  on  the  barbarous  portion  of  the  community  ;  and  the 
fact  was,  that  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  could  not  bear  the 
shortest  prayer  without  pain,  and  he  could  not  comprehend 
the  necessity  of  all  these  awful  and  high-sounding  words 
about  the  other  world  when  it  was  so  very  pleasant  to  live  in 
this.  And  moreover  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  who  liked  a  merry 
jest,  was  sometimes  fond  of  scandalizing  a  quiet  man  by  say- 
ing that  any  one  who  was  proud  of  his  origin  ought  not  to 
stop  at  Rurik  and  deny  his  earliest  ancestor—  the  monkey. 
Thus  the  liberal  side  had  become  a  habit  with  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch, and  he  liked  his  paper,  just  as  he  liked  his  cigar 
after  dinner,  because  of  the  slight  haziness  which  it  caused 
in  his  brain.  He  now  read  the  leading  editorial,  which  ex- 
plained how  in  our  day  a  cry  is  raised,  without  reason,  over 
the  danger  that  radicalism  may  swallow  up  all  the  conserva- 
tive elements,  and  that  government  ought  to  take  measures 
to  crush  the  hydra  of  revolution,  and  how,  on  the  contrary. 
"  according  to  our  opinion,  the  danger  lies  not  in  this  imagi- 
nary hydra  of  revolution,  but  in  the  inertia  of  traditions 
which  block  progress,"  and  so  on.  He  read  through  another 
article  on  finance  in  which  Bentham  and  Mill  were  mentioned 
and  which  dropped  some  sharp  hints  for  the  ministry.  With 
his  peculiar  quickness  of  comprehension  he  appreciated  each 
point,  —  from  whom  and  against  whom  and  on  what  occasion 
each  was  directed;  and  this  as  usual  afforded  him  some 
amusement.  But  his  satisfaction  was  poisoned  by  the  re- 
membrance of  Matriona's  advice  and  by  the  chaos  that 
reigned  in  the  house.  He  read  also  that  Count  von  Beust 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  13 

was  reported  to  have  left  for  Wiesbaden,  that  there  was  to 
be  uo  more  gray  hair  ;  he  read  about  the  sale  of  a  light  car- 
riage and  the  offer  of  a  young  person.  But  these  items  did 
not  afford  him  quiet  satisfaction  and  ironical  pleasure  as 
ordinarily. 

Having  finished  his  paper,  his  second  cup  of  coffee,  and  a 
buttered  kalatch,  he  stood  up,  shook  the  crumbs  of  the  roll 
from  his  vest,  and  filling  his  broad  chest,  smiled  joyfully, 
not  because  there  was  any  thing  extraordinarily  pleasant  in 
his  mind,  but  the  joyful  smile  was  caused  by  good  digestion. 

But  this  joyful  smile  immediately  brought  back  the  memory 
of  every  thing,  and  he  sank  into  thought. 

Two  children's  voices  —  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  recognized 
the  voice  of  Grisha,  his  youngest  boy,  and  Tania,  his  eldest 
daughter  —  were  now  heard  behind  the  door.  They  brought 
something  and  dropped  it. 

"  I  tell  you,  you  can't  put  passengers  on  top,"  cried  the 
little  girl  in  English.  — ki  Now  pick  'em  up." 

"Every  thing  is  at  sixes  and  sevens,"  thought  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch.  "  Now  here  the  children  are,  running  wild  !  " 
Then  going  to  the  door,  he  called  to  them.  They  dropped 
the  little  box  which  served  them  for  a  railway  train,  and  ran 
to  their  father. 

The  little  girl,  her  father's  favorite,  ran  in  boldly,  em- 
braced him  and  laughingly  clung  around  his  neck,  enjoying 
as  usual  the  odor  which  exhaled  from  his  whiskers.  Then 
kissing  his  face  reddened  by  his  bending  position,  and 
beaming  with  tenderness,  the  little  girl  unclasped  her  hands 
and  wanted  to  run  away  again,  but  her  father  held  her 
back. 

"  What  is  mamma  doing?"  he  asked,  caressing  his  daugh- 
ter's smooth,  soft  neck.  "•  How  are  3'ou?  "  he  added,  smiling 
at  the  boy  who  stood  saluting  him.  He  acknowledged  he 
had  less  love  for  the  little  boy,  yet  he  tried  to  be  impartial. 
But  the  boy  felt  the  difference,  and  did  not  smile  back  in 
reply  to  his  father's  chilling  smile. 

••  Mamma?     She's  up,"  answered  the  little  girl. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  sighed,  and  thought,  "•  It  shows  that 
she  has  spent  another  sleepless  night." 

' '  What  ?  is  she  happy  ?  ' ' 

The  little  girl  knew  that  there  was  trouble  between  her 
father  and  mother,  and  that  her  mother  could  not  be  happy, 
and  that  her  father  ought  to  know  it,  and  that  he  was  dissem- 


14  ANNA 

bling  when  he  asked  her  so  lightly.  And  she  blushed  for 
her  father.  He  instantly  perceived  it  and  also  blushed. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said:  ''she  told  me  not  to  study, 
but  she  told  me  to  go  with  Miss  Hull  over  to  grandmother's." 

"Well,  then,  run  along,  TanchurotcKka  moya.  —  Oh,  yes, 
wait,"  said  he,  still  detaining  her  and  smoothing  her  delicate 
little  hand. 

He  took  down  from  the  mantel-piece  a  box  of  candy  that 
he  had  placed  there  the  day  before,  and  gave  her  two  pieces, 
selecting  her  favorite  chocolate  and  vanilla. 

"  For  Grisha?  "  she  asked,  pointing  at  the  chocolate. 

"Yes,  yes;"  and  still  smoothing  her  soft  shoulder  he 
kissed  her  on  the  neck  and  hair,  and  let  her  go. 

"  The  carnage  is  at  the  door,"  said  Matve,  and  he  added, 
"  A  woman  is  here  to  ask  a  favor." 

"Has  she  been  here  long?"  demanded  Stepan  Arkady  e- 
vitch. 

"  Half  an  hour." 

"  How  many  times  have  you  been  told  never  to  keep  any 
one  waiting?  " 

"I  had  to  get  your  coffee  ready,"  replied  Matv6  in  his 
kind,  rough  voice,  at  which  no  one  could  ever  take  offence. 

"  Well,  ask  her  up  instantly,"  said  Prince  Stepan  with  an 
angry  face. 

The  petitioner,  the  wife  of  Captain  Kalenin,  asked  some 
impossible  and  nonsensical  favor  ;  but  Prince  Stepan.  accord- 
ing to  his  custom,  gave  her  a  comfortable  seat,  listened  to 
her  story  without  interrupting,  and  then  gave  her  careful 
advice  to  whom  and  how  to  apply,  and  in  lively  and  eloquent 
style  wrote  in  his  big,  scrawling,  but  handsome  and  legible 
hand  a  note  to  the  person  who  might  be  able  to  aid  her.  Hav- 
ing dismissed  the  captain's  wife,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  took 
his  hat  and  stood  for  a  moment  trying  to  remember  whether 
he  had  not  forgotten  something.  The  result  was  that  he  for- 
got nothing  except  what  he  wanted  to  forget —  his  wife. 

"  Ah,  yes  !  "  He  dropped  his  head,  and  a  gloomy  expres- 
sion came  over  his  handsome  face.  "  To  go,  or  not  to  go," 
said  he  to  himself ;  and  an  inner  voice  told  him  that  it  was 
not  advisable  to  go,  that  there  was  no  way  out  of  it  except 
through  falsehood,  that  to  straighten,  to 'smooth  out  their 
relations  was  impossible,  because  it  was  impossible  to  make 
her  attractive  and  lovable  again,  or  to  make  him  an  old  man 
insensible  to  passion.  Nothing  but  falsehood  and  lying  could 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  15 

come  of   it,  and  falsehood   and  lying  were  opposed  to   his 
nature. 

"  But  it  must  be  done  sooner  or  later  ;  it  can't  remain  so 
always,"  he  said,  striving  to  gain  courage.  He  straightened 
himself,  took  out  a  cigarette,  lighted  it,  inhaled  the  smoke 
two  or  three  times,  threw  it  into  a  pearl-lined  ash-tray,  went 
with  quick  steps  towards  the  sitting-room,  and  opened  the 
door  into  his  wife's  sleeping- room. 


IV. 

DARYA  ALEKSANDROVXA,  dressed  in  a  kofiotchka  (or  jersey) 
and  surrounded  by  all  sorts  of  things  thrown  in  confusion, 
was  standing  in  the  room  before  an  open  chest  of  drawers 
from  which  she  was  removing  the  contents.  She  had  hastily 
pinned  back  her  hair,  which  now  showed  thin,  but  had  once 
been  thick  and  beautiful,  and  her  great  eyes  staring  from 
her  pale,  worn  face  had  an  expression  of  terror.  When  she 
heard  her  husband's  steps  she  turned  to  the  door,  and  vainly 
tried  to  put  on  a  stern  and  forbidding  face.  She  knew  that 
she  feared  him  and.  that  she  dreaded  the  coming  interview. 
She  was  in  the  act  of  doing  what  she  had  attempted  to  do  a 
dozen  times  during  the  three  days,  and  that  was  to  gather  up 
her  own  effects  and  those  of  her  children  and  escape  to  her 
mother's  house.  Yet  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  do  it. 
Now,  as  before,  she  said  to  herself  that  things  could  not  re- 
main as  they  were,  that  she  must  take  some  measures  to 
punish,  to  shame  him  in  partial  expiation  for  the  pain  that 
he  had  caused  her.  She  still  said  that  it  was  her  duty  to 
leave  him,  but  she  felt  that  it  was  impossible  :  it  was  impos- 
sible to  get  rid  of  the  thought  that  he  was  still  her  husband 
and  she  loved  him.  Moreover  she  confessed  that  if  in  her 
own  home  she  had  barely  succeeded  in  taking  care  of  her 
five  children,  it  would  be  far  worse  where  she  was  going  with 
them.  Her  youngest  was  already  suffering  from  the  effects 
of  a  poorly  made  broth,  and  the  rest  had  been  obliged  to  go 
without  dinner  the  night  before.  She  felt  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  go.  yet  for  the  sake  of  deceiving  herself  she  was 
collecting  her  things  under  the  pretence  of  going. 

AVheu  she  saw  her  husband,  she  thrust  her  hands  into  the 
drawers  of  the  bureau  and  did  not  lift  her  head  until  he  was 
close  to  her.  Then  in  place  of  the  severe  and  determined 


16  ANNA  KARtiNlNA. 

look  which  she  intended  to  assume,  she  turned  to  him  a  face 
full  of  pain  and  indecision. 

"Dolly,"  said  he  in  a  gentle  subdued  voice.  She  lifted 
her  head,  and  gazed  at  him,  hoping  to  see  a  humble  and  sub- 
missive mien  ;  but  he  was  radiant  with  fresh  life  and  health. 
She  surveyed  him  from  head  to  foot  with  his  radiant  life  and 
healthy  face,  and  she  thought,  "He  is  happy  and  contented 
but  I  ?  Ah,  this  good  nature  which  others  find  so  pleas- 
ant in  him  is  revolting  to  me  !  "  Her  mouth  grew  firm,  the 
muscles  of  her  right  cheek  contracted  nervously,  and  she 
looked  straight  ahead. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  she  demanded  in  a  quick,  unnatu- 
ral tone. 

"  Dolly,"  he  repeated  with  a  quaver  in  his  voice,  "  Anna 
is  coming  to-day." 

"  Well,  what  is  that  to  me?      I  cannot  receive  her." 

"  Still,  it  must  be  done,  Dolly." 

"  Go  away  !  go  away  !  go  away  !  "  she  cried  without  look- 
ing at  him,  and  as  though  her  words  were  torn  from  her  by 
physical  agony.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  might  be  able  to  pei1- 
suade  himself  that  all  would  come  out  right  according  to 
Matve's  prediction,  and  he  might  be  able  to  read  his  morn- 
ing paper  and  drink  his  coffee  tranquill}7 ;  but  when  he  saw 
his  wife's  anguish,  and  heard  her  piteous  ciy,  he  breathed 
hard,  something  rose  in  his  throat,  and  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears. 

"My  God!  What  have  I  done?  for  the  love  of  God! 
See  ..."  He  could  not  say  another  word  for  the  sobs 
that  choked  him. 

She  shut  the  drawer  violently,  and  looked  at  him. 

"Dolly,  what  can  I  say?  Only  one  thing:  forgive  me. 
Just  think  !  Cannot  nine  years  of  my  life  pay  for  a  single 
minute,  a  minute?  "... 

She  let  her  eyes  fall,  and  listened  to  what  he  was  going  to 
say,  as  though  she  hoped  that  she  would  be  undeceived. 

"A  single  moment  of  temptation,"  he  ended,  and  was 
going  to  continue  ;  but  at  that  word,  Dolly's  lips  again  closed 
tight  as  if  from  physical  pain,  and  again  the  muscles  of  her 
right  cheek  contracted. 

"Go  away,  go  away  from  here,"  she  cried  still  more 
impetuously,  "  and  don't  speak  to  me  of  your  temptations 
and  your  wretched  conduct." 

She  attempted  to  leave  the  room,  but  she  almost  fell,  and 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  17 

was  obliged  to  lean  upon  a  chair  for  support.  Oblonsky's 
face  grew  melancholy,  his  lips  trembled,  and  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears. 

"  Dolly,"  said  he,  almost  sobbing,  "  for  the  love  of  God, 
think  of  the  children.  They  are  not  to  blame  ;  I  am  the  one 
to  blame.  Punish  me  !  Tell  me  how  I  can  atone  for  my 
fault.  ...  I  am  ready  to  do  any  thing.  I  am  sorry  !  AVords 
can't  express  how  sorry  I  am.  Now,  Dolly,  forgive  me  !  " 

She  sat  down.  He  heard  her  quick,  hard  breathing,  and 
his  soul  was  filled  with  pity  for  her.  She  tried  more  than 
once  to  speak,  but  could  not  utter  a  word.  He  waited. 

"  You  think  of  the  children,  because  you  like  to  play  with 
them ;  but  I  think  of  them,  too,  and  I  know  what  they  have 
lost,"  said  she,  repeating  one  of  the  phrases  that  had  been 
in  her  mind  during  the  last  three  days. 

She  had  used  the  familiar  tui  (thou),  and  he  looked  at  her 
with  gratitude,  and  made  a  movement  as  though  he  would 
take  her  hand,  but  she  avoided  him  with  abhorrence. 

"  I  have  consideration  for  my  children,  and  1  will  do  all  in 
the  world  for  them  :  but  I  am  not  sure  in  my  own  mind 
whether  I  ought  to  remove  them  from  their  father  or  to  leave 
them  with  a  father  who  is  a  libertine,  —  yes,  a  libertine  !  .  .  . 
Now  tell  me  after  this,  —  this  that  has  happened,  whether  we 
can  live  together.  Is  it  possible?  Tell  me,  is  it  possible?  " 
she  demanded,  raising  her  voice.  "  When  my  husband,  the 
father  of  my  children,  makes  love  to  their  governess  ..." 

.  .  .  "But  what  is  to  be  done  about  it?  what  is  to  be 
done?"  said  he,  interrupting  with  broken  voice,  not  know- 
ing what  he  said,  and  feeling  thoroughly  humiliated. 

"You  are  revolting  to  me,  you  are  insulting,"  she  cried 
with  increasing  anger.  ;t  Your  tears  .  .  .water!  You  never 
loved  me  ;  you  have  no  heart,  no  honor.  You  are  abomin- 
able, revolting  in  my  eyes,  and  henceforth  you  are  a  stranger 
to  me,  —  yes,  a  stranger,"  and  she  repeated  with  spiteful 
anger  this  word  "  stranger  "  which  was  so  terrible  to  her  own 
ears. 

He  looked  at  her  with  surprise  and  fear,  not  realizing  how 
he  exasperated  his  wife  by  his  pity.  It  was  the  only  feeling, 
as  Dolly  well  knew,  that  he  retained  for  her :  all  his  love  for 
her  was  dead.  "  No,  she  hates  me,  she  will  not  forgive  me," 
was  the  thought  in  his  mind. 

"  This  is  terrible,  terrible  !  "  he  cried. 

At  this  moment  one  of  the  children  iu  the  next  room  be- 


18  ANNA   KAIttfNINA. 

gan  to  cry,  and  Darya  Aleksandrovna's  face  softened.  She 
seemed  to  collect  her  thoughts  for  a  second  like  a  person  who 
returns  to  reality  ;  then  as  if  remembering  where  she  was,  she 
hastened  to  the  door. 

"•  At  any  rate  she  loves  my  child,"  thought  Oblonsky,  who 
had  noticed  the  effect  on  her  face  of  the  little  one's  sorrow. 
"  My  child  ;  how  then  can  I  seem  so  revolting  to  her?  " 

"  Dolly  !  one  word  more,"  he  said,  following  her. 

"  If  you  follow  me,  I  will  call  the  domestics,  the  children  ! 
so  that  everybody  may  know  that  you  are  infamous  !  As 
for  me,  I  leave  this  very  day,  and  you  may  keep  on  with 
your  ..."  and  she  went  out  and  slammed  the  door. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  sighed,  wiped  his  brow,  and  softly 
left  the  room.  "  Matv£  says  this  can  be  settled  ;  but  how? 
I  don't  see  the  possibility.  Ach  !  Ach  !  how  terrible  !  and 
how  foolishly  she  shrieked,"  said  he  to  himself  as  he  recalled 
the  epithets  which  she  applied  to  him.  '•  Perhaps  the  cham- 
ber-maids heard  her  !  horribly  foolish  !  horribly  !  ' ' 

It  was  Friday,  and  in  the  dining-room  the  German  clock- 
maker  was  winding  the  clocks.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  re- 
membered a  pleasantry  that  he  had  made  about  this  accurate 
German  ;  how  he  had  said  that  he  must  have  been  wound  up 
himself  for  a  lifetime  for  the  purpose  of  winding  clocks,  and 
he  smiled.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  loved  a  good  joke.  "  Per- 
haps it  will  come  out  all  right !  'twas  a  good  little  word : 
it  will  come  out  all  right,"  he  thought. 

••.Matve'!"  he  shouted;  and  when  the  old  servant  ap- 
peared, he  said,  "  Have  Marya  put  the  best  room  in  order 
for  Anna  Arkadyevna." 

"  Very  well." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  took  his  fur  coat,  and  started  down 
the  steps. 

"•  Shall  you  dine  at  home?  "  asked  Matve  as  he  escorted 
him  down. 

"  That  depends.  Here,  take  this  if  you  need  to  spend  any 
thing,"  said  he,  taking  out  a  bill  of  ten  rubles.  li  Will  that 
be  enough?  " 

•'  Whether  it  is  enough  or  not,  it  will  have  to  do,"  said 
Matve',  as  he  shut  the  carriage-door  and  went  back  to  the 
house. 

Meantime  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  having  pacified  the  child 
and  knowing  by  the  sound  of  the  carriage  that  he  was  gone, 
came  back  to  her  room.  This  was  her  sole  refuge  from  the 


AXXA    K  All  £  XIX  A.  19 

domestic  troubles  that  besieged  her  when  she  went  out. 
Even  during  the  short  time  that  she  had  been  in  her  child's 
room  the  English  maid  and  Matriona  Filimonovna  asked  her 
all  sorts  of  questions,  which  she  alone  could  answer :  What 
clothes  should  they  put  on  the  children?  should  they  give 
them  milk?  should  they  try  to  get  another  cook?  . 

"•  Ach  !  leave  me  alone,  leave  me  alone  !  "  she  cried,  and 
hastened  back  to  the  chamber  and  sat  down  in  the  place  where 
she  had  been  talking  with  her  husband.  Then  clasping  her 
thin  hands,  on  whose  fingers  the  rings  would  scarcely  stay, 
she  reviewed  the  whole  conversation. 

"  He  has  gone  !  But  has  he  broken  with  her?  "  she  asked 
herself.  "Does  he  still  continue  to  see  her?  Why  didn't 
I  ask  him?  No,  no,  we  cannot  live  together.  And  if  we 
continue  to  live  in  the  same  house,  we  are  only  strangers, 
strangers  forever!  "  she  repeated,  with  a  strong  emphasis 
on  the  word  that  hurt  her  so  cruelly.  "  How  I  loved  him! 
my  God,  how  I  loved  him  !  .  .  .  How  I  loved  him  !  and  even 
now  do  I  not  love  him?  Do  I  not  love  him  even  more  tlfan 
before?  and  what  is  most  terrible  .  .  .  "  she  was  interrupted 
by  Matriona  Filimonovna,  who  said  as  she  stood  in  the  door- 
way, "  Please  give  orders  to  have  my  brother  come :  he  will 
get  dinner.  If  you  doi»'t,  it  will  be  like  yesterday,  when  the 
children  did  not  have  any  thing  to  eat  for  six  hours." 

"  Very  good,  I  will  come  and  give  the  order.  Have  you 
sent  for  some  fresh  milk?  " 

And  Darya  Aleksandrovna  entered  into  her  daily  tasks, 
and  for  the  time  beiu°;  forgot  her  sorrow. 


V. 

STEFAN  ARKADYEVITCH  had  done  well  at  school,  thanks  to 
his  excellent  natural  gifts,  but  he  was  lazy  and  idle,  and  con- 
sequently had  been  at  the  foot  of  his  class.  Although  he 
had  always  been  gay,  and  took  a  low  rank  in  the  Tchin,  and 
was  still  quite  young,  he  nevertheless  held  an  important 
salaried  position  as  nutchalnik,  or  president  of  one  of  the 
courts  in  Moscow.  This  place  he  had  won  through  the  good 
offices  of  his  sister  Anna's  husband,  Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch 
Karenin,  who  was  one  of  the  most  influential  members  of 
the  ministry.  But  even  if  Karenin  had  not  been  able  to  get 
this  place  for  Stiva  Arkady evitch,  a  hundred  other  people 


20  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

—  brothers,  sisters,  cousins,  uncles,  aunts  —  would  have  got 
il  fur  him,  or  found  him  some  place  as  good,  together  with 
the  six  thousand  rubles'  salary  which  he  needed  for  his  es- 
tablishment, his  affairs  being  somewhat  out  of  order  in  spite 
of  his  wife's  considerable  fortune.  Half  the  people  of 
Moscow  and  St.  Petersburg  were  relatives  or  friends  of  Ste- 
pau  Arkadyevitch  ;  he  was  born  into  the  society  of  the  rich 
and  powerful  of  this  world.  A  third  of  the  officials  attached 
to  the  court  and  in  government  employ  had  been  friends  of 
his  father,  and  had  known  him  from  the  time  when  he  wore 
petticoats  ;  the  second  third  addressed  him  familiarly ;  the 
others  were  "  hail  fellows  well  met."  He  had,  therefore,  on 
his  side  all  those  whose  function  it  is  to  dispense  the  blessings 
of  the  land  in  the  form  of  places,  leases,  concessions,  and 
such  things,  and  who  could  not  afford  to  neglect  their  own 
friends.  Oblonsky  had  no  trouble  in  obtaining  an  excellent 
place.  His  only  aim  was  to  avoid  jealousies,  quarrels, 
offences,  which  was  not  a  difficult  thing  because  of  his  nat- 
ural good  temper.  He  would  have  thought  it  ridiculous  if 
lie  had  beeu  told  that  he  could  not  have  any  place  that  he 
wanted,  with  the  salary  attached,  because  it  did  not  seem  to 
him  that  he  demanded  any  thing  extraordinary.  He  only 
asked  for  what  his  companions  wen?  obtaining,  and  he  felt 
that  he  was  as  capable  as  any  of  them  of  doing  the  work. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  liked  by  every  one,  not  only  on 
account  of  his  good  and  amiable  character  and  his  unim- 
peachable honesty,  but  for  his  brilliant  and  attractive  person- 
ality. There  was  something  in  his  bright,  sparkling,  keen 
eyes,  his  black  brows,  his  hair,  his  vivid  coloring,  which 
exercised  a  strong  physical  influence  on  those  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact.  "  Aha,  Stiva !  Oblonsky  !  Here  he  is  !  " 
people  would  say,  with  a  smile  of  pleasure,  when  they  saw 
him  ;  and,  though  the  results  of  meeting  him  were  not  par- 
ticularly gratifying,  nevertheless  people  were  just  as  glad  to 
meet  him  the  second  day  and  the  third. 

After  he  had  filled  for  three  years  the  office  of  natchalnik, 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  gained  not  only  the  friendship  but 
also  the  respect  of  his  colleagues,  both  those  above  and  those 
below  him  in  station,  as  well  as  of  the  citizens  with  whom 
he  had  come  in  contact.  The  qualities  which  gained  him  this 
universal  esteem  were,  first,  his  extreme  indulgence  for  every 
one,  which  was  founded  on  the  knowledge  of  \vhat  was  lack- 
ing in  himself ;  secondly,  his  absolute  liberality,  which  was 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  21 

not  the  liberalism  for  which  his  journal  was  responsible,  but 
that  which  flowed  naturally  in  his  veins,  and  caused  him  to 
be  agreeable  to  every  one,  in  whatever  station  in  life  ;  and 
thirdly  and  principally,  his  perfect  indifference  to  the  busi- 
ness which  he  transacted,  so  that  he  never  lost  his  temper, 
and  therefore  never  made  mistakes. 

As  soon  as  he  reached  his  tribunal,  he  retired  to  his  private 
office,  solemnly  accompanied  by  the  Swiss  guard  who  bore 
his  portfolio,  and,  having  put  on  his  uniform,  went  to  the 
court-room.  The  employes  all  stood  up  as  he  passed,  and 
greeted  him  with  respectful  smiles.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
iu  accordance  with  his  usual  custom,  hastened  to  his  place, 
and  after  shaking  hands  with  the  other  members  of  the 
council,  he  sat  down.  He  uttered  a  few  familiar  words, 
full  of  good  humor,  and  suitable  to  the  occasion,  and  then 
opened  the  session.  No  one  better  than  he  understood  how 
to  preserve  the  official  tone,  and,  at  the  same  time,  give  his 
words  that  impression  of  simplicity  and  good  nature  which 
is  so  useful  in  the  expedition  of  official  business.  The 
secretary  came  up,  and  with  the  free  and  yet  respectful  air 
common  to  all  who  surrounded  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  handed 
him  his  papers,  and  spoke  in  the  familiarly  liberal  tone  which 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  introduced. 

tk  We  have  at  last  succeeded  in  obtaining  reports  from  the 
Government  of  Penza.  Permit  me  to  hand  them  to  you." 

tk  So  we  have  them  at  last,"  said  Stepau  Arkadyevitch, 
pushing  the  papers  away  with  his  linger.  "  Now,  then,  gen- 
tlemen .  .  ."  And  the  proceedings  began. 

"  If  they  only  knew,"  he  thought,  as  he  bent  his  head  with 
an  air  of  importance  while  the  report  was  read,  "  how  much 
their  president,  only  a  half-hour  since,  looked  like  a  naughty 
school-boy ! "  and  his  eyes  shone  with  merriment  as  he 
listened  to  the  report.  The  session  generally  lasted  till  two 
o'clock  without  interruption,  and  w^s  followed  by  recess  and 
luncheon.  The  hour  had  not  yet  struck,  when  the  great  glass 
doors  of  the  hall  were  thrown  open,  and  some  one  entered. 
All  the  members  of  the  council,  glad  of  any  diversion,  turned 
round  to  look  ;  but  the  door-keeper  instantly  ejected  the  in- 
truder, and  shut  the  door  upon  him. 

After  the  matter  under  consideration  was  settled,  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  arose,  and  in  a  spirit  of  sacrifice  to  the  liberal- 
ism of  the  time  took  out  his  cigarette,  while  still  in  the  court- 
room, and  then  passed  into  his  private  office.  Two  of  his 


22  ANNA   KARtiNIXA. 

colleagues,  the  aged  veteran  Xikitin,  and  the  hammer-junker 
Grinevitch,  followed  him. 

"There'll  be  time  enough  to  finish  after  lunch,"  said 
Oblonsky. 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  Xikitin. 

"  This  Famin  must  be  a  precious  rascal,"  said  Grinevitch, 
alluding  to  one  of  the  characters  in  the  matter  which  they 
had  been  investigating. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  knit  his  brows  at  Grinevitch's  words, 
as  though  to  signify  that  it  was  not  the  right  thing  to  form 
snap-judgments,  and  he  remained  silent. 

"Who  was  it  came  into  the  court-room?"  he  demanded 
of  the  door-keeper. 

"  Some  one  who  entered  without  permission,  your  Excel- 
lency, while  my  back  was  turned.  He  wanted  to  see  you  :  I 
said,  '  When  the  session  is  over,  then  '  "  — 

••  Where  is  he?" 

"  Probably  in  the  vestibule  :  he  was  there  a  moment  ago. 
Ah!  here  he  is,"  said  the  door-keeper,  pointing  to  a  fair- 
complexioned,  broad-shouldered  man  with  curly  hair,  who, 
neglecting  to  remove  his  sheep-skin  shapka,  was  lightly  and 
quu-kl}'  running  up  the  well-worn  steps  of  the  stone  stair- 
case. An  employe,  on  his  way  down,  with  portfolio  under 
his  arm,  stopped  to  look,  with  some  indignation,  at  the  feet 
of  the  young  man,  and  turned  to  Oblonsky  with  a  glance  of 
inquiry.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  stood  at  the  top  of  the  stair- 
case :  his  bright  face,  set  off  by  the  broad  collar  of  his  uni- 
form, was  still  more  radiant  when  he  recognized  the  visitor. 

"  Here  he  is  at  last,"  he  cried  with  a  friendly  though 
slightly  ironical  smile,  as  he  looked  at  Levin.  "  What!  you 
got  tired  of  waiting  for  me,  and  have  come  to  find  me  in  this 
den?  "  he  said,  not  satisfied  with  pressing  his  friend's  hand, 
but  kissing  him. affectionately.  "  When  did  3-011  arrive?  " 

"  I  just  got  here,  and  was  very  anxious  to  see  you,"  said 
Levin  timidly,  as  he  looked  about  him  with  distrust  and 
scorn. 

"All  right!  Come  into  my  office,"  said  Stepau  Arkad- 
3'evitch,  who  was  aware  of  the  egotistic  sensitiveness  of  his 
visitor ;  and,  as  though  he  wanted  to  avoid  some  danger,  he 
took  him  by  the  hand  to  show  him  the  way. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  addressed  almost  all  his  acquaint- 
ances with  the  familiar  "tui"  ("thou"),  —  old  men  of 
threescore,  young  men  of  twenty,  actors  and  ministers,  mer- 


ANNA  KABtiNINA.  23 

chants  and  generals,  all  with  whom  he  had  ever  drunken 
champagne  —  and  with  whom  had  he  not  drunken  champagne? 
Among  the  people  thus  brought  into  his  intimacy  in  the  two 
extremes  of  the  social  scale,  there  would  have  been  some 
astonishment  to  know  that,  thanks  to  him,  there  was  some- 
thing in  common  among  them.  But  when  in  presence  of  his 
inferiors,  he  came  in  contact  with  any  of  his  shameful  inti- 
mates, as  he  jestingly  called  some  of  his  acquaintances,  he 
had  the  tact  to  save  them  from  disagreeable  impressions. 
Levin  was  not  one  of  his  shameful  intimates.  He  was  a 
friend  of  his  boyhood  ;  but  Oblonsky  felt  that  it  might  be 
unpleasant  to  make  a  public  exhibition  of  their  intimacy, 
and  therefore  he  hastened  to  withdraw  with  him.  Levin  was 
about  the  same  age  as  Oblonsky,  and  their  intimacy  arose 
not  only  from  champagne,  but  because,  in  spite  of  the  differ- 
ence in  their  characters  and  their  tastes,  they  were  fond  of 
each  other  in  the  way  of  friends  who  had  grown  up  together. 
But.  as  often  happens  among  men  who  move  in  different 
spheres,  each  allowed  his  reason  to  approve  of  the  character 
of  the  other,  while  each  at  heart  really  despised  the  other, 
and  believed  his  own  mode  of  life  to  be  the  only  rational  way 
of  living.  At  the  sight  of  Levin,  Oblonsky  could  not  repress 
an  ironical  smile.  How  many  times  had  he  seen  him  in  Mos- 
cow just  in  from  the  country,  where  he  had  been  doing  some- 
thing great,  though  Oblonsky  did  not  know  exactly  what, 
and  scarcely  took  any  interest  in  it.  Levin  always  came  to 
Moscow  anxious,  hurried,  a  trifle  vexed,  and  vexed  because 
he  was  vexed,  and  generally  bringing  with  him  new  and  un- 
expected ideas  about  life  and  things.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
laughed  at  this  and  yet  liked  it.  Levin  for  his  part  despised 
the  life  which  his  friend  led  in  Moscow,  treated  his  official 
employment  with  light  scorn,  and  made  sport  of  him.  But 
Oblousky  took  this  ridicule  in  good  part,  like  a  man  sure  of 
being  in  the  right ;  while  Levin,  because  he  was  not  assured 
in  his  own  mind,  sometimes  got  angry. 

"We  have  been  expecting  you  for  some  time,"  said  Ste- 
pan Arkadyevitch,  as  he  entered  his  office,  and  let  go  his 
friend's  hand  to  show  that  the  danger  was  past.  "•  I  am 
very,  very  glad  to  see  you,"  he  continued.  "  How  goes  it? 
how  are  you  ?  When  did  you  come?  " 

Levin  was  silent,  and  looked  at  the  unknown  faces  of 
Oblonsky's  two  colleagues.  The  elegant  Grinevitch  was 
completely  absorbed  in  studying  his  white  hands,  and  his  fin- 


24  ANNA  KATttiNINA. 

gers  with  their  long,  yellow,  and  pointed  nails,  and  his  cuffs 
with  their  huge,  gleaming  cuff-buttons.  Oblousky  noticed 
what  he  was  doing,  and  smiled. 

"  Ah,  yes,"  said  he,  "  allow  me  to  make  you  acquainted  : 
mv  colleagues,  Filipp  Ivanuitch  Nikitin,  Mikhail  Stanisla- 
vitch  Grinevitch  ;  "  then  turning  to  Levin,  "  A  landed  pro- 
prietor, a  rising  man,  a  member  of  the  zemstvo,  and  a 
gymnast  who  can  lift  five  puds  [two  hundred  pounds]  with 
one  hand,  a  raiser  of  cattle,  a  celebrated  hunter,  and  my 
friend,  Konstantin  Dmitrievitch  Levin,  the  brother  of  Sergei 
Ivanuitch  Koznuishef." 

"  Very  happy,"  said  the  oldest  of  the  company.  •"  I  have 
the  honor  of  knowing  your  brother,  Sergei  Ivanuitch,"  said 
Grinevitch,  extending  his  delicate  hand.  Levin's  face  grew 
dark  :  he  coldly  shook  hands,  and  turned  to  Oblonsky.  Al- 
though he  had  much  respect  for  his  half-brother,  a  writer 
universally  known  in  Russia,  it  was  none  the  less  unpleasant 
for  him  to  be  addressed,  not  as  Konstantin  Levin,  but  as  the 
brother  of  the  famous  Koznuishef. 

"  No,  I  am  not  doing  any  thing  any  more.  I  have  quar- 
relled with  everybody,  and  I  don't  go  to  the  assemblies," 
said  he  to  Oblousky. 

'•This  is  a  sudden  change,"  said  the  latter  with  a  smile. 
"But  how?  why?" 

"  It  is  a  long  story,  and  I  will  tell  it  some  other  time," 
replied  Levin;  but  he  nevertheless  went  on  to  say,  "To 
make  a  long  story  short,  I  am  convinced  that  no  action 
amounts  to  any  thing,  or  can  amount  to  any  thing,  in  our 
provincial  assemblies.  On  the  one  hand,  they  try  to  piny 
Parliament,  and  I  am  not  young  enough  and  not  old  enough 
to  amuse  myself  with  toys  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,"  — he 
hesitated,  —  "  this  serves  the  coterie  of  the  district  to  make 
a  few  pennies.  There  used  to  be  guardianships,  judgments  ; 
but  now  we  have  the  zemstvo,  not  in  the  way  of  bribes,  but 
in  the  way  of  absorbing  salaried  offices."  He  said  these 
words  with  some  heat  and  with  the  manner  of  a  man  who 
expects  to  be  contradicted. 

"  Aha  !  here  we  find  you  in  a  new  phase  :  you  are  becom- 
ing a  conservative,"  said  Stepan  Arkady  eviteh.  "Well, 
we'll  speak  about  this  by  and  by." 

^  Yes,  by  and  by.  But  I  want  to  see  you  particularly," 
said  Levin,  looking  with  scorn  at  Grinevitch 's  hand. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  smiled  imperceptibly.     "  Didn't  you 


ANNA   KABfiNINA.  25 

say  that  you  would  never  again  put  on  European  clothes?  " 
he  asked,  examining  the  new  suit  made  by  a  French  tailor, 
which  his  friend  wore.  "Indeed,  I  see:  'tis  a  new 
phase." 

Levin  suddenly  blushed,  not  as  grown  men  blush  without 
perceiving  it,  but  as  timid  and  absurd  boys  blush  ;  and  it 
made  him  grow  still  redder.  It  gave  his  intelligent,  manly 
face  such  a  strange  appearance  that  Oblonsky  ceased  to  look 
at  him. 

"  But  where  can  we  meet?  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you," 
said  Levin. 

Oblonsky  reflected.  "  How  is  this?  We  will  go  and  take 
lunch  at  Gurin's,  and  we  can  talk  there.  At  three  o'clock 
I  shall  be  free." 

"  No,"  answered  Levin  after  a  moment's  thought :  "  I've 
got  to  take  a  drive." 

"Well,  then,  let  us  dine  together." 

"Dine?  But  I  have  nothing  very  particular  to  say,  only 
two  words,  a  short  sentence  :  afterwards  we  can  gossip." 

"In  that  case,  speak  your  two  words  now:  we  will  talk 
while  we  are  dining." 

"These  two  words  are —  But,  however,  they  are  not 
very  important."  His  face  assumed  a  hard  expression,  due 
to  his  efforts  to  conquer  his  timidity.  "  What  are  the  Shcher- 
batskys  doing?  —  just  as  they  used  to?  " 

Stopan  Arkadyevitch  had  long  known  that  Levin  was  in 
love  witli  his  sister-in-law  Kitty.  He  smiled,  and  his  eyes 
flashed  gayly.  "  You  have  said  your  say  in  two  words  ;  but 
I  cannot  answer  in  two  words,  because  —  excuse  me  a 
moment." 

The  secretary  came  in  at  this  juncture  with  his  familiar 
but  respectful  bearing,  and  with  that  modest  assumption 
peculiar  to  all  secretaries  that  he  knew  more  about  business 
than  his  superior.  He  brought  some  papers  to  Oblonsky  ; 
and  under  the  form  of  a  question,  he  attempted  to  explain 
some  difficulty.  Without  waiting  to  hear  the  end  of  the 
explanation,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  laid  his  hand  confiden- 
tially on  the  secretary's  arm.  "  No,  do  as  I  asked  you  to," 
said  he,  tempering  his  remark  with  a  smile  ;  and,  having 
briefly  given  his  own  explanation  of  the  matter,  he  pushed 
away  the  papers,  and  said,  "  Do  it  so,  I  beg  of  3-011,  Zakhar 
Nikititch."  The  secretary  went  off  confused.  Levin  during 
this  little  interview  had  collected  his  thoughts  ;  and,  standing 


20  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

behind  a  chair  on  which  he  rested  his  elbows,  he  listened 
with  ironical  attention. 

"  I  don't  understand,  I  don't  understand,"  he  said. 

"  What  is  it  that  you  don't  understand?  "  asked  Oblonsky, 
smiling,  and  hunting  for  a  cigarette.  He  was  expecting 
some  sort  of  strange  outbreak  from  Levin. 

"I  don't  understand  what  you  are  up  to,"  said  Levin, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  How  can  you  take  this  sort  of 
thing  seriously?" 

••  Why  not?" 

"  Why,  because,  because  —  it  doesn't  mean  any  thing." 

"You  think  so?  On  the  contrary,  we  have  more  work 
than  we  can  do." 

"  Business  on  paper  !  Well,  yes,  you  have  a  special  gift 
for  such  things,"  added  Levin.  . 

'•  You  mean  that  I  — there  is  something  that  I  lack?  " 

"  Perhaps  so,  yes.  However,  I  cannot  help  admiring 
your  high  and  mighty  ways,  and  rejoicing  that  I  have  for  a 
friend  a  man  of  such  importance.  Meantime,  you  have  not 
answered  my  question,"  he  added,  making  a  desperate  effort 
to  look  Oblonsky  full  in  the  face. 

"  Well,  then,  very  good,  very  good  !  Keep  it  up,  and  you 
will  succeed.  'Tis  well  that  you  have  three  thousand  desyatins 
of  land  in  the  district  of  Karazinsk,  such  muscles,  and  the 
complexion  of  a  little  girl  of  twelve  ;  but  you  will  succeed 
all  the  same.  Yes,  as  to  what  you  asked  me.  There  is  no 
change,  but  I  am  sorry  that  it  has  been  so  long  since  you 
were  in  town." 

"  Why?"  demanded  Levin. 

"Because"  —  replied  Oblonsky;  "but  we  will  talk 
things  over  by  and  b}-.  What  brought  you  now?  " 

"  Ach!  we  will  speak  also  of  that  by  and  by,"  said  Levin, 
blushing  to  his  very  ears. 

"Very  good.  I  understand  you,"  said  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch.  "  Do  3'ou  see?  I  should  have  invited  you  to  dine 
with  me  at  home,  but  my  wife  is  not  well  to-day.  If  you 
want  to  see  them,  you  will  find  them  at  the  Zoological  Gar- 
dens from  four  to  five.  Kitty  is  off  skating.  Good-by  now  : 
I  will  join  you  later,  and  we  will  go  and  get  dinner  together." 

"  Excellent.     Au  revoir!  " 

Levin  left  the  room,  and  onby  remembered  when  he  had 
passed  the  door  that  he  had  forgotten  to  salute  Oblonsky 's 
colleagues. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  27 

"  That  must  be  a  man  of  great  energy,"  said  Grinevitch, 
after  Levin  had  taken  his  departure. 

"•  Yes,  bdtiuslika  "  (papa),  said  IS tepan  Arkady evitch,  throw- 
ing his  head  bade.  '"  He  is  a  likely  fellow.  Three  thousand 
desyatins  (8,100  acres)  in  the  Karazinsk  district!  He  has  a 
future  before  him,  and  how  young  he  is  !  He  is  not  like  the 
rest  of  us." 

tk  What  have  you  to  complain  about,  Stepan  Arkady  e- 
vitch?" 

k%  Yes,  every  thing  goes  wrong,"  replied  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch,  drawing  a  deep  sigh. 


VI. 

WHEN  Oblonsky  asked  Levin  what  had  brought  him  to 
Moscow,  Levin  blushed,  and  he  was  angry  because  he 
blushed;  but  how  could  he  have  replied,  "I  have  come  to 
ask  the  hand  of  your  sister-in-law"?  Yet  that  was  what 
had  brought  him. 

The  Levin  and  Shcherbatsky  families,  belonging  to  the 
old  nobility  of  Moscow,  had  always  been  on  friendly  terms. 
While  Levin  was  studying  at  the  university  the  intimacy  had 
grown  closer,  on  account  of  his  friendship  with  the  young 
Prince  Shcherbatsky,  the  brother  of  Dolly  and  Kitty,  who 
w:is  following  the  same  course  of  stud}*.  At  that  time 
Levin  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  Shcherbatsky's  house,  and, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  was  in  love  with  the  whole  family, 
especially  the  feminine  portion.  Konstantin  Levin  had  lost 
his  mother  when  he  was  a  baby ;  and  as  he  had  only  a  sister, 
who  was  much  older  than  he  was,  he  found  in  the  house  of 
the  Shcherbatskys  that  charming  life  so  peculiar  to  the  old 
nobilit}*,  and  of  which  the  death  of  his  parents  had  deprived 
him.  All  the  members  of  this  family,  but  especially  the 
ladies,  seemed  to  him  to  be  surrounded  with  a  mysterious 
and  poetic  halo.  Not  only  did  he  fail  to  discover  any  faults 
in  them,  but  he  gave  them  credit  for  the  loftiest  sentiments 
and  the  most  ideal  perfections.  Why  these  three  young 
ladies  were  obliged  to  speak  French  and  English  every  day ; 
why  they  had,  one  after  the  other,  to  play  for  hours  at  a 
time  on  the  piano,  the'  sounds  of  which  floated  up  to  their 
brother's  room,  where  the  young  students  were  at  work  ;  why 
professors  of  French  literature,  of  music,  of  dancing,  of 


28  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

drawing,  came  to  give  them  lessons  ;  why  the  three  young 
ladies,  at  a  fixed  hour  in  the  day,  accompanied  by  Mile. 
Linon,  were  obliged  to  stop  their  carriage  on  the  Tverskoi 
Imnli'mrd,  and,  under  the  protection  of  a  liveried  valet 
with  a  gilt  cockade  on  his  hat,  walk  up  and  down  in  their 
satin  shubkas,  Dolly's  very  long.  Natalie's  of  half  length, 
and  Kitty's  very  short,  showing  her  shapely  ankles  and  red 
stockings,  —  all  these  things  and  many  others  were  abso- 
lutely incomprehensible  to  him.  But  he  felt  that  all  that 
piissi-d  in  this  mysterious  sphere  was  perfect,  and  from  the 
mystery  arose  his  love. 

Even  while  he  was  a  student  he  felt  his  first  passion  for 
Dolly,  the  eldest ;  she  married  Oblonsky :  then  he  imagined 
that  he  was  in  love  with  the  second,  for  he  felt  it  to  be  a 
necessity  to  love  one  of  the  three.  But  Natali  entered 
society,  and  soon  married  the  diplomat,  Lvof.  Kitty  was 
onl}'  a  child  when  Levin  left  the  university.  Shortly  after 
young  Shcherbatsky  joined  the  fleet,  and  was  drowned  in  the 
Baltic ;  and  Levin's  relations  with  the  familj*  became  more 
distant,  in  spite  of  the  friendship  which  attached  him  to 
Oblonsky.  At  the  beginning  of  the  winter,  however,  after 
a  year's  absence  in  the  countiy,  he  had  met  the  Shcherbat- 
skys  again,  and  learned  for  the  first  time  which  of  the  three 
he  was  destined  to  love. 

It  seemed  as  if  there  could  be  nothing  easier  for  a  young 
man  of  thirty-two,  of  good  family,  possessed  of  a  handsome 
fortune,  and  likely  to  be  regarded  as  an  eligible  suitor,  than 
to  ask  the  young  Princess  She  herbatskaia  in  marriage,  and 
probably  Levin  would  have  been  received  with  open  arms. 
But  he  was  in  love.  Kitty  in  his  eyes  was  a  creature  so  ac- 
complished, her  superiority  was  so  ideal,  and  he  judged  him- 
self so  severely,  that  he  was  unwilling  to  admit,  even  in 
thought,  that  others  or  Kitty  herself  would  allow  him  to 
aspire  to  her  hand. 

Having  spent  two  months  in  Moscow,  ac  in  a  dream,  meet- 
ing Kitty  every  day  in  society,  which  he  allowed  himself  to 
frequent  on  account  of  her,  he  suddenly  took  his  departure 
for  the  country,  having  concluded  that  this  alliance  was  im- 
possible. His  decision  was  reached  after  reasoning  that  in 
the  eyes  of  her  parents  he  had  no  position  to  offer  that  was 
worthy  of  her,  and  that  Kitty  herself  did  not  love  him.  His 
comrades  were  colonels  or  staff-officers,  distinguished  profess- 
ors, bank  directors,  railway  officials,  presidents  of  tribunals 


ANNA   KAKfiNINA.  29 

like  Oblonsky,  but  he  —  and  he  knew  very  well  how  he  was 
regarded  by  his  friends  —  was  only  a  pomyeshchik,  or  country 
proprietor,  busy  with  his  land,  building  farmhouses,  and 
hunting  woodcock  :  in  other  words,  he  had  taken  the  direction 
of  those  who,  in  the  eyes  of  society,  have  made  a  failure. 
He  was  not  full  of  illusions  in  regard  to  himself :  he  knew 
that  he  was  regarded  as  a  good-for-nothing.  And,  moreover, 
how  could  the  charming  and  poetic  Kitty  love  a  man  as  ill- 
favored  and  dull  as  he  was?  His  former  relations  with  her, 
while  he  had  been  intimate  with  her  brother,  were  those  of  a 
grown  man  with  a  child,  and  seemed  to  him  only  an  additional 
obstacle. 

It  is  possible,  he  thought,  for  a  girl  to  love  a  stupid  man 
like  himself ;  but  he  must  be  good-looking,  and  show  high 
qualities,  if  he  is  to  be  loved  with  a  love  such  as  he  felt  for 
Kitty.  He  had  heard  of  women  falling  in  love  with  ill- 
favored,  stupid  men,  but  he  did  not  believe  that  such  would 
be  his  own  experience,  just  as  he  felt  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  him  to  love  a  woman  who  was  not  beautiful,  brilliant, 
and  poetic. 

But,  having  spent  two  months  in  the  solitude  of  the  coun- 
try, he  became  convinced  that  the  passion  which  consumed 
him  was  not  ephemeral,  like  his  youthful  enthusiasms,  and 
that  he  could  not  live  without  settling  this  mighty  question 
—  whether  she  would,  or  would  not,  be  his  wife.  After  all, 
there  was  no  absolute  certainty  that  she  would  refuse  him. 
He  therefore  returned  to  Moscow  with  the  firm  intention  of 
marrying  her  if  she  would  accept  him.  If  not  .  .  .  he  could 
not  think  what  would  become  of  him. 


VII. 

COMING  to  Moscow  by  the  morning  train,  Levin  had 
stopped  at  the  house  of  his  half-brother,  Koznuishef .  After 
making  his  toilet,  he  went  to  the  library  with  the  intention 
of  making  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  asking  his  advice ;  but 
his  brother  was  engaged.  He  was  talking  with  a  famous 
professor  of  philosophy  who  had  come  up  from  Kharkof  ex- 
pressly to  settle  a  vexed  question  that  had  arisen  between 
them  on  some  scientific  subject.  The  professor  was  waging 
a  bitter  war  on  materialism,  and  Sergei  Koznuishef  followed 
his  argument  with  interest ;  and,  having  read  a  recent  article 


30  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

in  which  the  professor  promulgated  his  views,  he  raised 
some  objections.  He  blamed  the  professor  for  having  made 
too  large  concessions  to  the  claims  of  materialism,  and  the 
professor  had  come  on  purpose  to  explain  what  he  meant. 
The  conversation  turned  on  the  question  then  fashionable : 
Is  there  a  dividing  line  between  the  psychical  and  the  physi- 
ological phenomena  of  man's  action  ?  and  where-  is  it  to  be 
found  ? 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  welcomed  his  brother  with  the  same 
coldly°benevolent  smile  which  he  bestowed  on  all,  and,  after 
introducing  him  to  the  professor,  continued  the  discussion. 
The  professor,  a  small  man  with  spectacles,  and  narrow  fore- 
head, stopped  long  enough  to  return  Levin's  bow,  and  then 
continued  without  noticing  him  further.  Levin  sat  down  till 
the  professor  should  go,  and  soon  began  to  feel  interested  in 
the  discussion.  He  had  read  in  the  reviews  articles  on  these 
subjects,  but  he  had  read  them  with  only  that  general  inter- 
est which  a  man  who  has  studied  the  natural  sciences  at  the 
university  is  likely  to  take  in  their  development ;  but  he  had 
never  appreciated  the  connection  that  exists  between  these 
learned  questions  of  the  origin  of  man,  of  reflex  action,  of 
biology,  of  sociology :  and  those  which  touched  on  the  pur- 
pose of  life  and  the  meaning  of  death,  more  and  more  en- 
gaged his  attention  as  he  grew  older. 

He  noticed,  as  he  took  up  the  line  of  the  arguments,  that 
his  brother  and  the  professor  agreed  to  a  certain  kinship 
between  scientific  and  psychological  questions.  At  times  he 
felt  sure  that  they  were  going  to  take  up  this  subject ;  but 
each  time  that  they  trended  in  that  direction,  they  seemed 
possessed  with  the  desire  to  avoid  it  as  much  as  possible,  and 
take  refuge  in  the  domain  of  subtile  distinctions,  explana- 
tions, quotations,  references  to  authorities,  and  he  could 
scarcely  understand  what  they  were  talking  about. 

"  I  cannot  accept  the  theory  of  Keis,"  said  Sergei  Ivano- 
vitch in  his  elegant  and  correct  manner  of  speech,  "  and  I 
cannot  admit  that  my  whole  conception  of  the  exterior 
world  is  derived  entirely  from  my  sensations.  The  princi- 
ple of  all  knowledge,  the  sentiment  of  being,  of  existence, 
does  not  arise  from  the  senses:  there  is  no  special  organ  by 
which  this  conception  is  produced." 

"Yes;  but  Wurst  and  Knaust  and  Pripasof  will  reply, 
that  you  have  gained  the  knowledge  that  you  exist  absolutely 
and  entirely  from  an  accumulation  of  sensations  ;  in  a  word, 


ANNA   KAK&NINA.  31 

that  it  is  only  the  result  of  sensations.  "Wurst  himself  says 
explicitly,  that  where  sensation  does  not  exist,  there  is  no 
consciousness  of  existence." 

"  I  will  say,  on  the  other  hand  ..."  replied  Sergei  Ivan- 
ovitch. 

But  here  Levin  noticed  that  once  more  just  as  they  were 
about  to  touch  the  root  of  the  whole  matter,  they  started  off 
in  a  different  direction,  and  he  determined  to  put  the  follow- 
ing question  to  the  professor:  "In  this  case,  suppose  my 
sensations  ceased,  if  my  body  were  dead,  would  further 
existence  be  possible?" 

The  professor,  angry  at  this  interruption,  looking  at  the 
strange  questioner  as  though  he  took  him  for  a  clown  (bur- 
lak)  rather  than  a  philosopher,  turned  his  eyes  to  Sergei 
Ivanovitch  as  if  to  ask,  "  What  does  this  mean?  "  But  Ser- 
gei, who  was  not  quite  so  narrow-minded  as  the  professor,  and 
was  able  to  see  the  simple  and  rational  point  of  the  question, 
answered  with  a  smile,  "We  have  not  yet  gained  the  right 
to  answer  that  question."  .  .  . 

"  Our  capacities  are  not  sufficient,"  continued  the  pro- 
fessor, taking  up  the  thread  of  his  argument.  "  No,  I  insist 
upon  this,  as  Pripasof  says  plainly  that  sensations  are  based 
upon  impressions,  and  that  we  cannot  too  closely  distinguish 
between  the  two  notions." 

Levin  did  not  listen  any  longer,  and  waited  until  the  pro- 
fessor took  his  departure. 

VIII. 

WHEN  the  professor  was  gone,  Serg6i  Ivanovitch  turned 
to  his  brother.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  Shall  you 
make  a  long  stay?  How  are  things  on  the  estate?  " 

Levin  knew  that  his  brother  took  little  interest  in  the  affairs 
of  the  estate,  and  only  asked  out  of  politeness  ;  and  so  he 
refrained  from  giving  more  than  a  short  report  on  the  sale 
of  wheat,  and  the  money  which  he  had  received.  It  had 
been  his  intention  to  speak  with  his  brother  about  his 
marriage  project,  and  to  ask  his  advice  ;  but  after  the  con- 
versation with  the  professor,  and  in  consequence  of  the 
involuntarily  patronizing  tone  in  which  his  brother  had  asked 
about  their  affairs,  he  lost  his  inclination  to  speak,  and  felt 
that  his  brother  would  not  look  upon  the  matter  as  he  should 
wish  him  to. 


32  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

"  How  is  it  with  the  zemstvo  ?  "  asked  Sergei  Ivanovitch, 
who  took  a  lively  interest  in  these  provincial  assemblies,  to 
which  he  attributed  great  importance. 

"  Fact  is,  I  don't  know  "  — 

"  What !  aren't  you  a  member  of  the  assembly?  " 

"  No,  I'm  no  longer  a  member:  I  don't  go  an}*  more," 
said  Levin. 

"  It's  too  bad,"  murmured  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  wrinkling 
his  brows. 

In  order  to  defend  himself,  Levin  described  what  had 
taken  place  at  the  meetings  of  his  district  assembly. 

"  But  it  is  forever  thus,"  interrupted  Sergei  Ivanovitch. 
"  We  Russians  are  always  like  this.  Possibly  it  is  one  of 
the  good  traits  of  our  character  that  we  are  willing  to  con- 
fess our  faults,  but  we  exaggerate  them  :  we  take  delight  in 
irony,  which  comes  natural  to  our  language.  If  the  rights 
which  we  have,  if  our  provincial  institutions,  were  given  to 
any  other  people  in  P^urope,  Germans  or  English,  I  tell  you, 
they  would  derive  liberty  from  them  ;  but  we  only  turn  them 
into  sport." 

"But  what  is  to  be  done?"  asked  Levin  with  an  air  of 
contrition.  "  It  was  my  last  attempt.  I  put  my  whole 
heart  into  it :  I  could  not  do  another  thing.  I  was  help- 
less." 

"  Helpless  !  "  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch  :  "  you  did  not  look 
at  the  matter  in  the  right  light." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  replied  Levin  in  a  melancholy  tone. 

"•  Did  you  know  that  our  brother  Nikolai'  has  just  been  in 
town?  " 

Nikolai  was  Konstantin  Levin's  own  brother,  and  Sergei 
Ivanovitch 's  half-brother,  standing  between  them  in  age. 
He  was  a  ruined  man,  who  had  wasted  the  larger  part  of  his 
fortune,  and  had  quarrelled  with  his  brothers  on  account  of 
the  strange  and  disgraceful  society  which  he  frequented. 

"  What  did  you  say?"  cried  Levin  startled.  "  How  did 
you  know?  " 

"  Prokofi  saw  him  on  the  street." 

"  Here  in  Moscow?  Where  is  he?  "  and  Levin  stood  up, 
as  though  with  the  intention  of  instantly  going  to  find  him. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  told  you  this,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch, 
shaking  his  head  when  he  saw  his  younger  brother's  emotion. 
"  I  sent  out  to  find  where  he  was  staying  ;  and  I  sent  him  his 
letter  of  credit  on  Trubiu,  the  amount  of  which  I  paid.  But 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  33 

this  is  what  he  wrote  me,"  and  Sergei  Tvanoviteh  handed 
his  brother  a  note  which  he  took  from  a  letter-press. 

Levin  read  the  letter,  which  was  written  in  the  strange  hand 
which  he  knew  so  well:  "•  I  humbly  beg  to  be  left  in  peace. 
It  is  all  that  I  ask  from  my  dear  brothers.  Nikolai  Levin." 

Konstantin,  without  lifting  his  head,  stood  motionless 
before  his  brother  with  the  letter  in  his  hand.  The  desire 
arose  in  his  heart  entirely  to  forget  his  unfortunate  brother, 
and  at  the  same  time  he  felt  that  it  would  be  wrong. 

"He  evidently  wants  to  insult  me,"  continued  Sergei 
Ivauovitch ;  '•  but  that  is  impossible.  I  wish  with  all  my 
soul  to  help  him,  and  yet  I  know  that  I  shall  not  succeed." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  Levin.  "  I  understand,  and  I  appre- 
ciate your  treatment  of  him  ;  but  I  am  going  to  him." 

"  Go  by  all  means,  if  it  will  give  }"ou  any  pleasure,"  said 
Sergei  Ivanovitch  ;  "  but  I  would  not  advise  it.  Not  because 
I  fear,  that,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  he  might  make  a  quar- 
rel between  us,  but  on  your  own  account,  I  advise  you  not 
to  go.  You  can't  do  any  thing.  However,  do  as  it  seems 
best  to  yon." 

u  Perhaps  I  can't  do  any  thing,  but  I  feel  especially  .  .  . 
at  this  moment  ...  I  feel  that  I  could  not  be  con- 
tented. ..." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch  ;  "  but 
one  thing  I  do  understand,"  he  added.  "  and  that  is,  that  this 
is  a  lesson  in  humility  for  us.  Since  our  brother  Nikolai  has 
become  the  man  he  is,  I  look  with  greater  indulgence  on  what 
people  call  '  abjectness.'  Do  you  know  what  he  has  done?  " 

"  Ach  !  it  is  terrible,  terrible,"  replied  Levin. 

Having  obtained  from  his  brother's  servant,  Nikolai's 
address,  Levin  set  out  to  find  him,  but  on  second  thought 
changed  his  mind,  and  postponed  his  visit  till  evening. 
Before  all,  he  must  decide  the  question  that  had  brought  him 
to  Moscow,  in  order  that  his  mind  might  be  free.  He  there- 
fore went  directly  to  find  Oblonsky  ;  and,  having  learned 
where  he  could  find  the  Shcherbatskys,  he  went  where  he  was 
told  that  he  would  meet  Kitty. 


ABOUT  four  o'clock  Levin  left  his  izvoshcliik  (driver)  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Zoological  Garden,  and  with  beating  heart 
followed  the  path  that  led  to  the  ice-mountains,  near  the 


34  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

place  where  there  was  skating,  for  he  knew  that  he  should 
find  Kitty  there,  having  seen  the  Shcherbatskys'  carriage  at 
the  gate.  It  was  a  beautiful  frosty  day.  At  the  entrance 
of  the  garden  there  were  crowds  of  carriages,  sleighs,  hired 
drivers,  policemen.  Hosts  of  fashionable  people,  gayly  glan- 
cing in  the  bright  sunlight,  were  gathered  at  the  entrance 
and  on  the  paths  cleared  of  snow,  between  the  Russian 
izbas  with  their  carved  woodwork.  The  ancient  birch- 
trees,  their  branches  laden  with  snow  and  icicles,  seemed 
clothed  in  new  and  solemn  chasubles. 

As  Levin  followed  the  foot-path,  he  said  to  himself,  "Be 
calm  !  there  is  no  reason  for  being  agitated  !  What  do  you 
desire?  what  ails  you?  Be  quiet,  you  fool!"  Thus  Levin 
addressed  his  heart.  But  the  more  he  endeavored  to  calm 
his  agitation,  the  more  he  was  overcome  by  it  till  at  last  he 
could  hardly  breathe.  An  acquaintance  spoke  to  him  as  he 
passed,  but  Levin  did  not  even  notice  who  it  was.  He  drew 
near  the  ice-mountains.  The  sledges  flashed  down  the 
inclines,  and  were  drawn  up  again  by  ropes.  There  was  a 
gay  rush  of  creaking  salazkas  (sleds),  and  the  confusion  of 
happy  voices.  At  a  little  distance  there  was  skating,  and 
among  the  skaters  he  soon  discovered  her.  He  knew  that 
he  was  near  her  from  the  joy  and  terror  that  seized  his  heart. 
She  was  standing  on  the  opposite  side,  engaged  in  conversa- 
tion with  a  lady  ;  and  neither  by  her  toilet  nor  by  her  posi- 
tion was  she  remarkable  among  the  throng  that  surrounded 
her,  but  for  Levin  she  stood  out  from  the  rest  like  a  rose 
among  nettles.  Her  presence  brightened  all  around  her. 
Her  smile  filled  the  place  with  glory.  "•  Am  I  brave  enough 
to  go  and  meet  her  on  the  ice?"  he  thought.  The  place 
where  she  was  seemed  like  a  sanctuary,  which  he  did  not  dare 
to  approach,  and  he  was  so  distrustful  of  himself  that  lie 
almost  turned  to  go  away  again.  Mastering  himself  by  a 
supreme  effort,  he  brought  himself  to  think  that,  as  she  was 
surrounded  by  people  of  every  sort,  he  had  as  much  right  as 
the  rest  to  watch  her  skate.  He  therefore  went  down  upon 
the  ice,  looking  away  from  her  as  though  she  were  the  sun  ; 
but  he  saw  her,  as  he  saw  the  sun,  though  he  did  not  look  at 
her. 

This  day  the  ice  formed  a  common  meeting-ground  for 
people  in  society.  There  were  also  masters  in  the  art  of 
skating,  who  came  to  show  off  their  talents  ;  others  were 
learning  to  skate  by  holding  on  chairs,  and  making  awkward 


ANNA  KAE£NINA.  35 

and  distressing  gestures  ;  there  were  young  lads  and  old  peo- 
ple who  skated  as  a  matter  of  health  :  all  seemed  to  Levin 
to  be  the  favorites  of  heaven,  because  they  were  near 
Kitty. 

And  these  skaters  all  glided  around  her,  came  close  to  her, 
even  spoke  to  her,  and  nevertheless  seemed  to  enjoy  them- 
selves, as  though  they  were  absolutely  fancy-free,  and  as 
though  it  was  enough  for  them  that  the  ice  was  good  and  the 
weather  splendid. 

Nikolai  Shcherbatsk}',  Kitty's  cousin,  in  jacket  and  knick- 
erbockers, was  seated  on  a  bench  with  his  skates  on,  when 
he  saw  Levin. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  cried,  "  the  best  skater  in  Russia  :  there  he  is  ! 
Have  you  been  here  long  ?  Put  on  your  skates  quick  :  the  ice 
is  first-rate  !  ' ' 

"  I  have  not  my  skates  with  me,"  replied  Levin,  surprised 
that  one  could  speak  with  such  freedom  before  Kitty,  and 
not  losing  her  out  of  his  sight  a  single  instant,  although  he 
did  not  look  at  her.  He  felt  that  the  sun  was  shining  upon 
him.  She,  evidently  not  quite  at  ease  on  her  high  skates, 
glided  towards  him  from  the  place  where  she  had  been  stand- 
ing, followed  by  a  young  man  in  Russian  costume,  who  was 
trying  to  get  ahead  of  her,  and  making  the  desperate  ges- 
tures of  an  unskilful  skater.  Kitty  herself  did  not  skate  with 
much  confidence.  She  had  taken  her  hands  out  of  the  little 
muff  which  hung  around  her  neck  by  a  ribbon,  and  was  wav- 
ing them  wildly,  ready  to  grasp  the  first  object  that  came  in 
her  way.  She  looked  at  Levin,  whom  she  had  just  seen  for 
the  first  time,  and  smiled  at  her  own  timidity.  As  soon  as 
she  had  got  a  start,  she  struck  out  with  her  little  foot,  and 
glided  up  to  her  cousin,  Shcherbatsky,  seized  him  by  the  arm, 
and  gave  Levin  a  friendly  welcome.  Never  in  his  imagina- 
tion had  she  seemed  so  charming. 

Whenever  he  thought  of  her,  he  could  easily  recall  her 
whole  appearance,  but  especially  her  lovely  blond  head,  set 
so  gracefully  on  her  pretty  shoulders,  and  her  expression  of 
childlike  frankness  and  goodness.  The  combination  of  child- 
like grace  and  feminine  beauty  had  a  special  charm  which 
Levin  thoroughly  appreciated.  But  what  struck  him  like 
something  always  new  and  unexpected,  was  her  modest,  calm, 
sincere  face,  which,  when  she  smiled,  transported  him  to  a 
world  of  enchantment,  where  he  felt  at  peace  and  at  rest, 
with  thoughts  like  those  of  his  childhood. 


3G  ANNA 

"When  did  yon  come?"  she  asked,  giving  him  her  hand. 

"Thank  YOU,"  she  added,  MS  he  stooped  to  pick  up  her 
handkerchief,  which  had  dropped  out  of  her  muff. 

"  I  ?  Oh  !  a  little  while  ago — yesterday  —  that  is,  to-day," 
answered  Levin,  so  disturbed  that  he  did  not  know  what  he 
was  saying.  "I  wanted  to  call  upon  you,"  said  he;  and 
when  he  remembered  what  his  errand  was,  he  blushed,  and 
was  more  distressed  than  ever.  "  I  did  not  know  that  you 
skated,  and  so  well." 

She  looked  at  him  closely,  as  though  to  divine  the  reason 
of  his  embarrassment.  "  Your  praise  is  precious.  A  tradi- 
tion of  your  skill  as  a  skater  is  still  floating  about,"  said  she, 
brushing  off  with  her  daintily  gloved  hand  the  pine-needles 
that  had  fallen  on  her  muff. 

"Yes:  I  used  to  be  passionately  fond  of  skating.  I  had 
the  ambition  to  reach  perfection." 

"  Seems  to  me  that  you  do  all  things  with  all  your  heart," 
said  she  with  a  smile.  "  I  should  like  to  see  you  skate.  Put 
on  your  skates,  and  we  will  skate  together." 

"  Skate  together !  "  he  thought,  as  he  looked  at  her.  "  Is 
it  possible?" 

"  I  will  go  and  put  them  right  on,"  he  said ;  and  he  has- 
tened to  find  a  pair  of  skates. 

"It  is  a  long  time,  sir,  since  you  have  been  with  us," 
said  the  katalshchik  (the  man  who  rents  skates),  as  he  lifted 
his  foot  to  n't  on  the  skate.  "  Since  your  day,  we  have  not 
had  any  one  who  deserved  to  be  called  a  master  in  the  art. 
Are  they  going  to  suit  you?"  he  asked,  as  he  tightened  the 
strap. 

"It's  all  right;  only  make  haste,"  said  Levin,  unable  to 
hide  the  smile  of  joy,  which,  in  spite  of  him,  irradiated  his 
face.  "  Yes,"  thought  he,  "  this  is  life,  this  is  happiness. 
'  We  will  skate  together,'  she  said.  Shall  I  speak  now?  But 
I  am  afraid  to  speak,  because  I  am  happy,  happy  with  hope. 
But  when  ?  But  it  must  be,  it  must,  it  must.  Down  with 
weakness !  " 

Levin  arose,  took  off  his  cloak,  and,  after  trying  his  skates 
in  the  little  house,  he  struck  out  across  the  glare  ice ;  and 
without  effort,  allowing  his  will  to  guide  him,  he  directed  his 
course  toward  Kitty.  He  felt  timid  about  coming  up  to  her, 
but  a  smile  assured  him.  She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  they 
skated  side  by  side,  gradually  increasing  speed ;  and  the 
faster  they  went,  the  closer  she  held  his  hand. 


ANNA   KAEtiNlNA.  37 

"  I  should  learn  very  quickly  with  you,"  she  said.  "  I 
somehow  feel  confidence  in  you." 

"I  am  confident  in  myself  when  you  lean  on  my  arm," 
he  answered,  and  immediately  he  was  startled  at  what  he  had 
said,  and  blushed.  In  fact,  he  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words, 
when,  just  as  the  sun  goes  under  a  cloud,  her  face  lost  all  its 
kindliness,  and  Levin  saw  on  her  smooth  brow  a  wrinkle  that 
indicated  what  her  thought  was. 

"  Has  any  thing  disagreeable  happened  to  you  ?  but  I  have 
no  right  to  ask,"  he  added  quickly. 

"Why  so?  No,  nothing  disagreeable  has  happened  to 
me,"  she  said  coolly,  and  immediately  continued,  "Have 
you  seen  Mile.  Linou  yet?" 

"  Not  yet." 

"  Go  to  see  her :  she  is  so  fond  of  you." 

"What  does  this  mean?  I  have  offended  her!  O  God! 
have  pity  upon  me  !  "  thought  Levin,  and  skated  swiftly  to- 
wards the  old  French  governess,  with  little  gray  curls,  who 
was  watching  them  from  a  bench.  She  received  him  like  an 
old  friend,  smiling,  and  showing  her  false  teeth. 

"Yes,  but  how  we  have  grown  up,"  she  said,  turning  her 
eyes  to  Kitty  ;  "  and  how  demure  we  are  !  Tiny  bear  has 
grown  large,"  continued  the  old  governess,  still  smiling  ;  and 
she  recalled  his  jest  about  the  three  young  ladies  whom  he 
had  named  after  the  three  bears  in  the  English  story.  .  .  . 
"  Do  you  remember  that  you  called  them  so?" 

He  had  entirely  forgotten  it,  but  she  had  laughed  at  this 
pleasantry  for  ten  years,  and  still  enjoyed  it.  "  Now  go,  go 
and  skate.  Doesn't  our  Kitty  take  to  it  beautifully?  " 

When  Levin  rejoined  Kitty,  her  face  was  no  longer  severe  ; 
her  eyes  had  regained  their  fresh  and  kindly  expression  :  but 
it  seemed  to  him  that  in  her  very  kindliness,  there  was  some- 
thing that  was  not  exactly  natural,  and  he  felt  troubled. 
After  speaking  of  the  old  governess  and  her  eccentricities, 
she  asked  him  about  his  own  life.  "  Don't  }~ou  get  tired  of 
living  in  the  country?"  she  asked. 

"  No,  I  don't  get  tired  of  it,  I  am  very  busy,"  he  replied, 
feeling  that  she  was  bringing  him  into  the  atmosphere  of  in- 
difference, which  she  had  resolved  henceforth  to  throw  about 
her,  and  which  he  could  not  escape  now,  any  more  than  he 
could  at  the  beginning  of  the  winter. 

"  Shall  you  stay  long?  "  asked  Kitty. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  answered,  without  regard  to  what  he 


38  ANNA  KAK£NINA. 

was  saying.  The  idea  of  falling  back  into  the  tone  of  calm 
friendship,  and  perhaps  of  returning  home  without  reaching 
any  decision,  was  revolting  to  him. 

"  Why  don't  you  know:'  " 

"  I  don't  know  why.  It  depends  on  you,"  he  said,  and 
instantly  he  was  horrified  at  his  own  words. 

She  either  did  not  understand  his  words,  or  did  not  want 
to  understand  them,  but,  seeming  to  stumble  once  or  twice, 
she  made  an  excuse  to  leave  him  ;  and,  having  spoken  to 
Mile.  Linon,  she  went  to  the  little  house,  where  her  skates 
were  removed  by  the  waiting-women. 

"Good  heavens!  what  have  I  done?  O  God !  have  pity 
upon  me.  and  come  to  my  aid  !  "  was  Levin's  secret  prayer  ; 
and  feeling  the  need  of  taking  some  violent  exercise,  he 
began  to  describe  a  series  of  intricate  curves  on  the  ice. 

At  this  Instant  a  young  man,  the  best  among  the  recent 
skaters,  came  out  of  the  cafe  with  his  skates  on,  and  a  cigar- 
ette in  his  mouth  :  without  stopping  he  ran  towards  the  stair- 
way, and  without  even  changing  the  position  of  his  arms  ran 
down  the  steps  and  darted  out  upon  the  ice. 

"That  is  a  new  trick,"  said  Levin  to  himself,  and  he 
climbed  the  staircase  to  imitate  it. 

"Don't  you  kill  yourself!  it  needs  practice,"  shouted 
Nikolai  Shcherbatsky. 

Levin  went  up  the  steps,  got  as  good  a  start  as  he  could, 
and  then  flew  down  the  stairway,  preserving  his  balance  with 
his  hands  ;  but  at  the  last  step,  he  stumbled,  made  a  violent 
effort  to  recover  himself,  regained  his  equilibrium,  and  glided 
out  gaily  upon  the  ice. 

"Charming,  glorious  fellow,"  thought  Kitty,  at  this 
moment  coming  out  of  the  little  house  with  Mile.  Linon, 
and  looking  at  him  with  a  gentle  smile,  as  though  he  were  a 
beloved  brother.  "  Is  it  my  fault?  Have  I  done  any  thing 
very  bad?  People  say,  'Coquetry.'  I  know  that  I  don't 
love  him,  but  it  is  pleasant  to  be  with  him,  and  he  is  so 
charming.  But  what  made  him  say  that?  "... 

Seeing  Kitty  departing  with  her  mother,  who  had  come  for 
her,  Levin,  flushed  with  his  violent  exercise,  stopped  and 
pondered.  Then  he  took  off  his  skates,  and  joined  the 
mother  and  daughter  at  the  gate.  "  Very  glad  to  see  you," 
said  the  princess  :  "we  receive  on  Thursdays,  as  usual." 

"To-day,  then?" 

"  We  shall  be  delighted  to  see  you,"  she  answered  dryly. 


ANNA   KAJlfiNINA.  39 

This  haughtiness  troubled  Kitty,  and  she  could  not  restrain 
herself  from  tempering  the  effect  of  her  mother's  chilling 
manner.  She  turned  to  Levin,  and  said  with  a  smile,  "  We 
shall  see  yon,  I  hope." 

At  this  moment  Stepan  Arkactyevitch  with  hat  on  one  side, 
with  animated  face  and  bright  eyes,  entered  the  garden.  At 
the  sight  of  his  wife's  mother,  he  assumed  a  melancholy  and 
humiliated  expression,  and  replied  to  the  questions  which  she 
asked  about  Dolly's  health.  When  he  had  finished  speaking 
in  a  low  and  broken  voice  with  his  mother-in-law,  he  straight- 
ened himself  up,  and  took  Levin's  arm. 

"  Now,  then,  shall  we  go?  I  have  been  thinking  of  you 
all  the  time,  and  I  am  very  glad  that  you  came,"  he  said 
with  a  significant  look  into  his  eyes. 

"Come  on,  come  on,"  replied  the  happy  Levin,  who  did 
not  cease  to  hear  the  sound  of  a  voice  saying,  "  We  shall  see 
you,  I  hope,"  or  to  recall  the  smile  that  accompanied  the 
words. 

"  At  the  English  hotel,  or  at  the  Hermitage?" 

"It's  all  one  to  me." 

"At  the  English  hotel,  then,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
who  chose  this  restaurant  because  he  owed  more  there  than 
at  the  Hermitage,  and  it  seemed  unworthy  of  him,  so  to 
speak,  to  avoid  it.  "You  have  an  izvoshchik?  So  much 
the  better,  for  I  sent  off  m}'  carriage." 

While  they  were  on  the  way,  not  a  word  was  spoken. 
Levin  was  thinking  of  how  Kitty's  face  had  changed,  and 
he  passed  through  alternations  of  hope  and  despair,  all  the 
time  saying  that  there  was  no  sense  in  despairing.  Never- 
theless he  felt  that  he  was  another  man  since  he  had  heard 
those  words,  "  We  shall  see  you,  I  hope,"  and  seen  that  re- 
assuring smile. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  made  out  the  menu. 

"You  like  turbot,  don't  you?"  were  his  first  words  on 
entering  the  restaurant. 

"  What?"  exclaimed  Levin.  .  .  .  "Turbot?  Yes,  I  ana 
excessively  fond  of  turbot." 

X. 

LEVIN  could  not  help  noticing,  as  they  entered  the  restau- 
rant, how  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  face  and  whole  person 
seemed  to  shine  with  restrained  happiness.  Oblonsky  took 


40  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

off  his  ovorooat,  nncl,  with  hat  on  one  side,  marched  towards 
the  dining-room,  giving,  as  lie  went,  his  orders  to  the  Tartar, 
who  in  swallow-tail,  and  with  his  napkin  under  his  arm,  came 
to  meet  him.  Bowing  to  right  and  left  to  his  acquaintances, 
who  as  usual  seemed  delighted  to  see  him,  he  went  directly 
to  the  bar  and  took  a  gmall  glass  of  vodka  (brandy).  The 
bar-maid,  a  pretty  French  girl  with  curly  hair,  who  was 
painted,  and  covered  with  ribbons  and  lace,  listened  to  his 
merry  jest,  and  burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter.  As  for  Levin, 
the  sight  of  this  French  creature,  all  made  up  of  false  hair, 
rice-powder,  and  vinaigre  de  toilette,  as  he  said,  took  away 
his  appetite.  He  turned  away  from  her  quickly,  with  dis- 
gust, as  from  some  horrid  place.  His  heart  was  filled  with 
memories  of  Kitty,  and  in  his  eyes  shone  triumph  and  happi- 
ness. 

"  This  way,  your  excellency  ;  come  this  way,  and  you  will 
not  be  disturbed,"  said  the  old  obsequious  Tartar,  whose 
monstrous  waist  made  the  tails  of  his  coat  stick  out  behind. 
"  Will  you  come  this  way,  your  excellency  ?"  said  he  to  Levin, 
as  a  sign  of  respect  for  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  whose  guest 
he  was.  In  a  twinkling  he  had  spread  a  fresh  cloth  on  the 
round  table,  which,  already  covered,  stood  under  the  bronze 
chandelier ;  then,  bringing  two  velvet  chairs,  he  stood  wait- 
ing for  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  orders,  holding  in  one  hand 
his  napkin,  and  his  order-card  in  the  other. 

"  If  your  excellency  would  like  to  have  a  private  room, 
one  will  be  at  your  service  in  a  few  moments  —  Prince  Ga- 
luitsin  and  a  lady.  We  have  just  received  fresh  oysters." 

"  Ah,  o}"sters  !  " 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  reflected.  "  Supposing  we  change 
our  plan,  Levin,"  said  he  with  his  finger  on  the  bill  of  fare. 
His  face  showed  serious  hesitation. 

"  But  are  they  good?     Pay  attention  !  " 

"They  are  from  Flensburg,  your  excellency:  there  are 
none  from  Ostend." 

"  Fleusburg  oysters  are  well  enough,  but  are  they  fresh?  " 

"They  came  yesterday." 

"  Very  good  !  What  do  you  say? —  to  begin  with  oysters, 
and  then  to  make  a  complete  change  in  our  menu?  What 
say  you  ?  ' ' 

"  It  makes  no  difference  to  me.  I'd  like  best  of  all  some 
shchi  (cabbage  soup)  and  kasha  (wheat  gruel),  but  you  can't 
get  them  here." 


ANNA  KAEfiNINA.  41 

"  Kasha  el  la  russe,  if  you  would  like  to  order  it,"  said  the 
Tartar,  bending  over  towards  Levin  as  a  nurse  bends  towards 
a  child. 

"  No.  Jesting  aside,  whatever  you  wish  is  good.  I  have 
been  skating  and  am  almost  famished.  Don't  imagine," 
he  added  as  he  saw  an  expressioju  of  disappointment  on 
Oblonsky's  face,  "  that  I  do  not  appreciate  your  menu.  I 
can  eat  a  good  dinner  with  pleasure." 

"  Jt  should  be  more  than  that !  You  should  say  that  it  is 
one  of  the  pleasures  of  life,"  said  Stepau  Arkadyevitch. 
"In  this  case,  little  brother  mine,  give  us  two,  or  —  no, 
that's  not  enough  ;  three  dozen  oysters,  vegetable  soup  "  — 

"  Printaniere,"  suggested  the  Tartar. 

But  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  did  not  allow  him  the  pleasure 
of  enumerating  the  dishes  in  French,  and  continued,  "Vege- 
table soup,  you  understand ;  then  turbot,  with  a  sauce  not 
too  thick  ;  then  roast  beef,  but  see  to  it  that  it  be  done  to  a 
turn.  Yes,  some  capon,  and  lastly,  some  preserve." 

The  Tartar,  remembering  that  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  did  not 
like  to  call  the  dishes  by  their  French  names,  waited  till  lie 
had  finished  ;  then  he  gave  himself  the  pleasure  of  repeating 
the  bill  of  fare  according  to  the  rule  :  "  Potage  printaniere, 
turbot,  sauce  Beaumarchais,  poularde  a  I'estragon,  macedoine 
de  fruits."  Then  instantly,  as  though  moved  by  a  spring, 
he  substituted  for  the  bill  of  fare  the  wine-list,  which  he 
presented  to  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  What  shall  we  drink?  " 

"  Whatever  you  please,  only  let  it  be  champagne,"  said 
Levin. 

"  What !  at  the  very  beginning?  But  after  all,  why  not? 
Do  you  like  the  white  seal  ? ' ' 

"  Cachet  blanc,"  repeated  the   Tartar. 

"  Good  with  oysters  :  that  will  go  well.  Now.  as  we  have 
settled  on  this  brand  for  the  oysters,  bring  that." 

"It  shall  be  done,  sir.  And  what  vin  de  table  shall  I 
bring  you?  " 

"  Some  Nuits;  no,  hold  on, — give  us  some  classic  chnblis." 

"It  shall  be  done,  sir;  and  shall  I  give  you  some  of 
your  cheese?  " 

"  Yes,  some  parmesan.     Or  do   you    prefer  some   otlit 
kind?" 

"No,  it's  all  the  same  to  me,"  replied  Levin,  who  could 
not  keep  from  smiling.  The  Tartar  disappeared  on  the  trot, 


42  ANNA  KAK£NINA. 

with  his  coat-tails  flying  out  behind  him.  Five  minutes  later 
he  came  with  a  platter  of  oysters  and  a  bottle.  Stepan  Ar- 
kadyevitch  crumpled  up  his  napkin,  tucked  it  in  his  waist- 
coat, calmly  stretched  out  his  hands,  and  began  to  attack 
the  oysters.  "Not  bad  at  all,"  he  said,  as  he  lifted  the 
succulent  oysters  from  their  shells  with  a  silver  fork,  and 
swallowed  them  one  by  one.  "  Not  at  all  bad,"  he  repeated, 
looking  from  Levin  to  the  Tartar,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  sat- 
isfaction. Levin  ate  his  oysters,  although  he  would  have 
preferred  bread  and  cheese ;  but  he  could  not  help  admiring 
Oblousky.  Even  the  Tartar,  after  uncorking  the  bottle,  and 
pouring  the  sparkling  wine  into  delicate  glass  cups,  looked 
at  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  with  a  contented  smile  while  he 
adjusted  his  white  neck-tie.  "  You  aren't  very  fond  of 
oysters,  are  you?"  asked  Oblonsky,  draining  his  glass. 
"Or  3~ou  are  pro-occupied?  Hey?"  He  was  anxious  to 
get  Levin  into  good  spirits ;  but  the  latter  was  anxious,  if  he 
was  not  downcast.  His  heart  being  so  full,  he  found  him- 
self out  of  his  element  in  this  restaurant,  amid  the  confu- 
sion of  guests  coming  and  going,  surrounded  by  the  private 
rooms  where  men  and  women  were  dining  together :  every 
thing  was  repugnant  to  his  feelings,  —  the  gas,  the  mirrors, 
even  the  Tartar.  He  feared  that  the  sentiment  that  occupied 
his  soul  would  be  defiled. 

"I?  Yes,  I  am  a  little  absent-minded;  but  besides, 
everything  here  confuses  me.  Yon  can't  imagine,"  he  said, 
"  how  strange  all  these  surroundings  seem  to  a  countryman 
like  myself.  It's  like  the  finger-nails  of  that  gentleman 
whom  I  met  at  your  office." 

"  Yes,  I  noticed  that  poor  Grinevitch's  finger-nails  inter- 
ested you  greatly,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  laughing. 

"I  cannot,"  replied  Levin.  "You  are  a  puzzle  to  me. 
I  cannot  get  you  into  the  focus  of  a  man  accustomed  to  liv- 
ing in  the  country.  The  rest  of  us  try  to  have  hands  to 
work  with  ;  therefore,  we  cut  off  our  finger-nails,  and  often- 
times we  even  turn  back  our  sleeves.  Here,  on  the  other 
hand,  men  let  their  nails  grow  as  long  as  possible,  and  so  as 
to  be  sure  of  not  being  able  to  do  any  work,  they  fasten 
their  sleeves  with  plates  for  buttons." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  smiled  gayly.  "  That  proves  that 
there  is  no  need  of  manual  labor:  it  is  brain- work." 

"Perhaps  so.  Yet  it  seems  strange  to  me,  no  less  than 
thisthat  we  are  doing  here.  In  the  country  we  make  haste 


ANNA  KAEfiNINA.  43 

to  get  through  our  meals  so  as  to  be  at  work  again  ;  but 
here  you  and  I  are  doing  our  best  to  eat  as  long  as  possible 
without  getting  satisfied,  and  so  we  are  eating  oysters." 

"  Well,  there's  something  in  that,"  replied  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch  ;  "but  isn't  it  the  aim  of  civilization  to  translate 
every  thing  into  enjoyment?  " 

"  If  that  is  the  aim  of  civilization,  I  prefer  to  remain  a 
barbarian." 

"And  you  are  a  barbarian!  Come,  now,  you  are  all 
savages  in  your  family." 

Levin  sighed.  He  thought  of  his  brother  Nikolai',  and 
felt  mortified  and  saddened,  and  his  face  grew  dark  ;  but 
Oblonsky  introduced  a  subject  which  had  the  immediate 
effect  of  diverting  him. 

"  Very  well,  come  this  evening  to  our  house.  I  mean  to 
the  Shcherbatskys',"  said  he,  winking  gayly,  and  pushing 
away  the  oyster-shells,  so  as  to  make  room  for  his  cheese. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Levin  ;  "  though  it  did  not  seem  that 
the  princess  was  very  cordial  in  her  invitation." 

"  What  an  idea  !  It  was  only  her  grande  dame  manner," 
replied  Stepan  Arkady evitch.  "  I  shall  come  there  immedi- 
ately after  a  musicale  at  the  Countess  Boniua's.  —  How 
can  we  help  calling  you  a  savage?  How  can  you  explain 
your  flight  from  Moscow?  The  Shcherbatskys  have  more 
than  once  besieged  me  with  questions  on  your  account,  as  if 
I  were  likely  to  know  any  thing  about  it.  I  only  know  this, 
that  you  are  always  likely  to  do  things  that  no  one  would 
expect  you  to  do." 

"Yes,"  replied  Levin  slowly,  and  with  emotion:  "you 
are  right,  lama  savage  ;  but  it  was  not  my  departure,  but 
my  return,  that  proves  me  one.  I  have  come  now  "  — 

"Are  you  happy?"  interrupted  Oblousky,  looking  into 
Levin's  eyes. 

"Why'?" 

"I  know  fiery  horses  by  their  brand,  and  I  know  young 
people  who  are  in  love  by  their  eyes,"  said  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  dramatically  :  "  the  future  is  yours." 

"  And  yourself,  —  have  you  a  future  before  3~ou  also?  " 

"  I  have  only  the  present,  and  this  present  is  not  all 
roses." 

"What  is  the  matter?  " 

"Nothing  good.  But  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  myself, 
especially  as  I  cannot  explain  the  circumstances,"  replied 


44  ANNA   KAKtiNINA. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  What  did  you  come  to  Moscow 
for?  Here  !  clear  off  the  things  !  "  he  cried  to  the  Tartar. 

"Can't  you  imagine?"  answered  Levin,  not  taking  his 
eyes  from  his  friend's  face. 

"  I  can  imagine,  but  it  is  not  for  me  to  be  the  first  to 
speak  about  it.  By  this  detail  you  can  tell  whether  I  am 
right  in  my  conjecture,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  looking 
at  Levin  with  a  cunning  smile. 

"  Well,  what  have  you  to  tell  me?"  asked  Levin  with  a 
trembling  voice,  and  feeling  the  muscles  of  his  face  quiver. 
"  How  do  you  look  upon  the  affair?  " 

Stepau  Arkadyevitch  slowly  drank  his  glass  of  chdblis 
while  he  looked  steadily  at  Levin. 

"  I? "  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  I  would  say  nothing 
but  this  one  word  —  nothing." 

"But  aren't  you  mistaken?  Do  you  know  what  we  are 
talking  about?"  murmured  Levin,  with  his  gaze  fixed  fever- 
ishly on  his  companion.  "  Do  you  believe  that  what  you  say 
is  possible  ?  ' ' 

"Why  shouldn't  it  be  ?" 

"  No,  do  you  really  think  that  it  is  possible?  No  !  tell  me 
what  you  really  think.  If — if  she  should  refuse  me,  and  I 
am  almost  certain  that  "  — 

"Why  should  you  be?"  asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
smiling  at  this  emotion. 

"  It  is  my  intuition.  It  would  be  terrible  for  me  and  for 
her." 

"  Oh  !  in  any  case.  I  can't  see  that  it  would  be  very  terrible 
for  her :  a  young  girl  is  always  flattered  to  be  asked  in 
marriage." 

"  Young  girls  in  general,  perhaps,  but  not  she." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  smiled ;  he  perfectly  understood 
Levin's  feelings,  and  knew  that  for  him  all  the  young  girls 
in  the  universe  could  be  divided  into  two  categories  :  in  the 
one,  all  the  young  girls  in  existence,  participating  in  all  the 
faults  common  to  humanity,  —  in  other  words,  ordinary  girls  ; 
in  the  other,  she  alone,  without  the  least  imperfection,  and 
placed  above  the  rest  of  humanity. 

"  Hold  on !  take  a  little  sauce,"  said  he,  stopping  Levin's 
hand,  who  was  pushing  away  the  sauce-dish. 

Levin  took  the  sauce  in  all  humility,  but  he  did  not  give 
Oblonsky  time  to  eat.  "  No,  just  wait,  wait,"  said  he  :  "  I 
want  you  to  understand  me  perfectly,  for  with  me  it  is  a 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  45 

question  of  life  and  death.  I  have  never  spoken  to  any  one 
else  about  it,  and  I  cannot  speak  to  any  one  else  but  you. 
I  know  we  are  very  different  from  one  another,  have  differ- 
ent tastes,  and  conflicting  views  ;  but  I  know  also  that  3-011 
love  me,  and  that  you  understand  me,  and  that's  the  reason 
I  am  so  fond  of  you.  In  the  name  of  Heaven  be  sincere  with 
me!" 

"  I  will  tell  yon  what  I  think,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
smiling.  "•  But  I  will  tell  yon  more  :  my  wife  —  a  most  ex- 
traordinary woman  "  — and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  stopped  a 
moment  to  sigh,  as  he  remembered  how  his  relations  with  his 
wife  were  strained  —  "she  has  a  gift  of  second  sight,  and 
sees  all  that  goes  on  in  the  hearts  of  others,  but  she  is  a 
prophetess  when  there  is  a  question  of  marriage.  Thus,  she 
predicted  that  Brenteln  would  marry  the  Princess  Shakhov- 
ska'ia :  no  one  would  believe  it,  and  yet  it  came  to  pass. 
Well,  my  wife  is  on  your  side." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  she  likes  you,  and  she  says  that  Kitty  will 
be  your  wife." 

As  he  heard  these  words,  Levin's  face  lighted  up  with  a 
smile  that  was  almost  ready  to  melt  into  tears.  "  She  said 
that !  "  he  cried.  "  I  always  thought  that  your  wife  was  au 
angel.  But  enough,  enough  of  this  sort  of  talk,"  he  added, 
and  rose  from  the  table. 

"  Good  !  but  sit  a  little  while  longer." 

But  Levin  could  not  sit  down.  He  walked  two  or  three 
times  up  and  down  the  room,  winking  his  eyes  to  hide  the 
tears,  and  then  he  came  back  to  the  table  somewhat  calmer. 
"  Understand  me,"  he  said  :  "  this  is  not  love.  I  have  been 
in  love,  but  it  was  not  like  this.  This  is  more  than  a  senti- 
ment :  it  is  an  inward  power  that  controls  me.  I  left  Moscow 
because  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  such  happiness  could 
not  exist,  that  such  good  fortune  could  not  be  on  earth. 
But  I  struggled  in  vain  against  myself:  I  find  that  my  whole 
life  is  here.  This  question  must  be  decided/' 

"  But  why  did  you  leave  Moscow?  " 

'•'•Ach!  stay!  Ach!  only  think!  only  listen  to  me!  If 
you  only  knew  what  your  words  meant  to  me !  You  cannot 
imagine  how  you  have  encouraged  me.  I  am  so  happy  that 
I  am  becoming  selfish,  and  forgetting  every  thiug ;  and  yet 
this  very  day  I  heard  that  my  brother  Nikolai" — -you  know 
him  —  is  here,  and  I  had  entirely  forgotten  him.  It  seems  to 


46  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

me  that  he,  too,  ought  to  be  happy.  But  this  is  like  a  fit  of 
madness.  But  one  thing  seems  terrible  to  me.  You  who 
are  married  ought  to  know  this  sensation.  It  is  terrible  that 
we  who  are  already  getting  old  dare  not  approach  a  pure  and 
innocent  being.  Isn't  it  terrible?  and  is  it  strange  that  I 
find  that  I  am  unworthy?  " 

"  Nu!  you  have  not  much  to  reproach  yourself  with." 

"Ach!"  said  Levin;  '*  and  yet,  as  I  look  with  disgust 
upon  my  life,  I  tremble  and  curse  and  mourn  bitterly  — 
da!" 

"  But  what  can  you  do?  the  world  is  thus  constituted," 
said  Stepan  Arkady evitch. 

"There  is  only  one  consolation,  and  that  is  in  the  prayer 
that  I  have  always  loved  :  '  Pardon  me  not  according  to  my 
deserts,  but  according  to  Thy  loving-kindness.'  Thus  only 
can  she  forgive  me." 

XI. 

LEVIN  emptied  his  glass,  and  for  a  few  minutes  the  two 
friends  were  silent.  "I  ought  to  tell  you  one  thing, 
though.  Do  you  know  Vronsky  ?  "  asked  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch. 

"  No  :  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Bring  us  another  bottle,"  said  Oblonsky  to  the  Tartar, 
who  was  refilling  their  glasses.  ' k  You  must  know  that 
Vronsky  is  a  rival  of  yours." 

14  Who  is  this  Vronsky?"  asked  Levin,  whose  face,  a 
moment  since  beaming  with  youthful  enthusiasm,  suddenly 
grew  dark. 

"Vronsky  —  he  is  one  of  Count  Kirill  Ivanovitch  Vron- 
sky's  sons,  and  one  of  the  finest  examples  of  the  gilded 
youth  of  Petersburg.  I  used  to  know  him  at  Tver  when  I 
was  on  duty :  he  came  there  for  recruiting  service.  He  is 
immensely  rich,  handsome,  with  excellent  connections,  an 
adjutant  attached  to  the  emperor's  person,  and,  in  spite  of 
all,  a  capital  good  fellow.  From  what  I  have  seen  of  him, 
he  is  more  than  a  '  good  fellow ;  '  he  is  well  educated  and 
bright ;  he  is  a  rising  man." 

Levin  scowled,  and  said  nothing. 

"  Nu-sl  he  put  in  an  appearance  soon  after  you  left ;  and, 
if  people  -tell  the  truth,  he  fell  in  love  with  Kitty.  You 
understand  that  her  mother  "  — 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  47 

"Excuse  me,  but  I  don't  understand  at  all,"  interrupted 
Levin,  scowling  still  more  fiercely.  He  suddenly  remem- 
bered his  brother  Nikolai,  and  how  ugly  it  was  in  him  to 
forget  him. 

"Just  wait,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  laying  his  hand 
on  Levin's  arm  with  a  smile.  "  I  have  told  you  all  that  I 
know ;  but  I  repeat,  that,  in  my  humble  opinion,  the  chances 
in  this  delicate  affair  are  in  }'our  favor." 

Levin  grew  pale,  and  leaned  on  the  back  of  the 
chair. 

"  But  I  advise  you  to  settle  the  matter  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible," suggested  Oblonsky,  handing  him  a  glass. 

"  Xo,  thank  3-011 :  I  cannot  drink  any  more,"  said  Levin, 
pushing  away  the  glass.  "It  will  go  to  my  head.  Nu! 
how  are  you  feeling?"  he  added,  desiring  to  change  the 
conversation. 

"  One  word  more  :  in  any  case  I  advise  you  to  act  quickly. 
I  advise  you  to  speak  immediately,"  said  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch. "  Go  to-morrow  morning,  make  your  proposal  in 
classic  style,  and  God  be  with  you." 

"Why  haven't  you  ever  come  to  hunt  with  me  as  you 
promised  to  do?  Come  this  spring,"  said  Levin.  He  now 
repented  with  all  his  heart  that  he  had  entered  upon  this  con- 
versation with  Oblonsky :  his  deepest  feelings  were  wounded 
by  what  he  had  just  learned  of  the  pretensions  of  his  rival, 
the  young  officer  from  Petersburg,  as  well  as  by  the  advice 
and  insinuations  of  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  perceived  his  friend's  thoughts,  and 
smiled.  "  I  will  come  some  day,"  he  said.  "  Yes,  brother, 
woman  !  She's  the  spring  that  moves  every  thing  in  this 
world.  My  own  trouble  is  bad,  very  bad.  And  all  on 
account  of  women.  Give  me  your  advice,"  said  he,  taking 
a  cigar,  and  still  holding  his  glass  in  his  hand:  "tell  me 
frankly  what  you  think." 

"But  what  about?" 

"  Listen  :  suppose  you  were  married,  that  you  loved  your 
wife,  but  had  been  drawn  away  by  another  woman  "  — 

"  Excuse  me.  I  can't  imagine  an}-  such  thing.  As  it  looks 
to  me,  it  would  be  as  though,  in  coming  out  from  dinner,  I 
should  steal  a  loaf  of  bread  from  a  bakeiy." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  eyes  sparkled  more  than  usual. 
"  Why  not?  Bread  sometimes  smells  so  good,  that  one  can- 
not resist  the  temptation :  — 


48  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

"  Himmlisch  isV s,  wenn  ich  bezwunyen 

Meine  irdiache  Beyier : 
Aber  dock  wenns's  nicht  gelunyen, 
Hdtt  ich  auch  recht  huebsch  Plaisir."  1 

As  he  repeated  these  lines,  Oblonsky  smiled.  Levin  could 
not  refrain  from  smiling  also.  "  But  a  truce  to  pleasantries," 
continued  Oblousky.  "  Imagine  a  charming,  modest,  lovely 
woman,  poor,  and  alone  in  the  world,  who  would  sacrifice 
herself  for  you  :  is  it  necessary  to  give  her  up,  in  case  my 
supposition  were  true?  We'll  allow  that  it  is  necessary  to 
break  with  her,  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  peace  of  the  family ; 
but  ought  we  not  to  have  pity  on  her,  to  make  the  separation 
less  painful,  to  look  out  for  her  future?  " 

"Pardon  me;  but  you  know  that  for  me,  women  are 
divided  into  two  classes,  — no,  that  is,  there  are  women,  and 
there  are  —  But  I  never  yet  knew  a  case  of  a  beautiful 
repentant  Magdalen  ;  and  as  to  that  French  creature  at  the 
bar,  with  her  false  curls,  she  fills  me  with  disgust,  and  so  do 
all  such." 

"  But  woman  in  the  New  Testament?  " 

"Ach!  hold  your  peace.  Never  would  Christ  have  said 
those  words  if  he  had  known  to  what  bad  use  they  would  be 
put.  Out  of  the  whole  gospel,  only  those  words  are  taken. 
However,  I  don't  say  what  I  think,  but  what  I  feel,  nothing 
more.  I  feel  a  disgust  for  fallen  women  just  as  you  do  for 
criminals.  You  did  not  have  to  study  the  manners  of  the 
criminal  classes  to  bring  about  this  feeling,  nor  I  these." 

"It  is  well  for  you  to  say  so :  it  is  a  very  convenient  way 
to  do  as  the  character  in  Dickens  did,  and  throw  all  embar- 
rassing questions  over  the  right  shoulder  with  the  left  hand. 
But  to  deny  a  fact  is  not  to  answer  it.  Now  tell  me  !  what 
is  to  be  done  ?  ' ' 

"  Don't  steal  fresh  bread." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  burst  out  laughing.  "  O  moralist ! 
but  please  appreciate  the  situation.  Here  are  two  women  : 
one  insists  on  her  rights,  and  her  rights  means  your  love 
which  you  cannot  give  ;  the  other  has  made  an  absolute  sac- 
rifice, and  demands  nothing.  What  can  one  do?  How  can 
one  proceed?  Here  is  a  terrible  drama !  " 

1  It  was  heavenly  when  I  gained 

What  my  heart  desired  on  earth: 
Yet  if  all  were  not  attained, 
Still  I  had  ray  share  of  mirth. 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  49 

"  If  yon  vrant  me  to  confess  what  I  think,  I  will  tell  you 
that  I  don't  believe  in  this  drama,  and  tin's  is  why.  In  my 
opinion,  Love  —  the  two  Loves  which  Plato  describes  in 
his  "  Symposium,"  you  remember,  serve  as  the  touch-stone 
for  men.  The  one  class  of  people 'understands  only  one  of 
them  :  the  other  understands  the  other.  Those  who  do  not 
comprehend  Platonic  affection  have  no  right  to  speak  of  this 
drama.  In  this  sort  of  love  there  can  be  no  drama.  '  Much 
obliyed  to  you  for  the  pleasure  you  have  given  me;'  and 
therein  consists  the  whole  drama.  But  Platonic  affection 
cannot  make  a  drama,  because  it  is  bright  and  pure,  and 
because  "  — 

At  this  moment  Levin  remembered  his  own  short-comings 
and  the  inward  struggles  which  he  had  undergone,  and  he 
added  in  an  unexpected  fashion,  "  However,  you  may  be 
right.  It  is  quite  possible  —  I  know  nothing  —  absolutely 
nothing  about  it." 

"Do  3-011  see,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  "you  are  a 
man  of  perfect  purity  ?  Your  great  virtue  is  your  only  fault. 
And  because  your  character  is  thus  constituted,  you  desire 
that  all  the  factors  of  life  should  also  be  absolutely  pure ; 
and  this  can  never  be.  So  you  scorn  the  service  of  the 
state,  because  you  see  in  it  no  service  useful  to  society,  and 
because,  according  to  your  idea,  every  action  should  corre- 
spond to  an  exact  end ;  and  this  can  never  be.  You  want 
conjugal  life  and  love  to  be  one  and  the  same,  and  that  can- 
not be.  And  besides,  all  the  charm,  the  variety,  the  beauty 
of  life  consists  in  these  lights  and  shades." 

Levin  sighed,  and  did  not  answer:  he  did  not  even  listen. 
He  was  absorbed  in  the  thought  of  what  concerned  himself. 
And  suddenly  both  of  them  felt  that  this  dinner,  which  ought 
to  have  brought  them  closer  together,  had  widened  the  dis- 
tance between  them,  though  they  were  still  good  friends. 
Each  was  thinking  more  of  his  own  affairs,  and  was  forget- 
ting to  feel  interested  in  his  friend's.  Oblonsky  understood 
this  phenomenon,  having  often  experienced  it  after  dining ; 
and  he  also  knew  what  his  course  of  conduct  would  be. 

"  Give  me  the  account,"  he  cried,  and  went  into  the  next 
room,  where  he  met  an  adjutant  whom  he  knew,  and  with 
whom  he  began  to  talk  about  an  actress  and  her  lover.  This 
conversation  amused  and  rested  Oblonsk}-  after  what  had 
been  said  with  Levin,  who  always  kept  his  mind  on  the 
strain,  and  wearied  him. 


50  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

When  the  Tartar  had  brought  the  account,  amounting  to 
twenty-eight  rubles  and  odd  kopeks,  not  forgetting  his  fee, 
Levin,  who  generally,  in  the  honest  country  fashion,  would 
have  been  shocked  at  the  size  of  the  bill,  paid  the  fourteen 
rubles  of  his  share  without  noticing,  and  went  home  to  dress 
for  the  reception  at  the  Shcherbatskys',  where  his  fate  would 
be  decided. 

XII. 

THE  Princess  Kitty  Shcherbatskaia  was  eighteen  years  old. 
She  was  making  her  first  appearance  in  society  this  winter, 
and  her  triumphs  had  been  more  brilliant  than  her  elder  sis- 
ters, than  even  her  mother  had  anticipated.  All  the  young 
men  in  Moscow,  who  danced  at  balls,  were  more  or  less  in 
love  with  Kitty  ;  but,  besides  these,  there  were  two  who, 
during  this  first  winter  of  her  debut,  were  serious  aspirants 
to  her  hand,  —  Levin,  and,  sooii  after  his  departure,  Count 
Vronsky. 

Levin's  frequent  visits  and  his  unconcealed  love  for  Kitty 
were  the  first  subjects  in  regard  to  her  future  that  gave  cause 
for  serious  conversation  between  her  father  and  mother. 
The  prince  and  princess  had  livery  discussions  about  it.  The 
prince  was  on  Levin's  side,  and  declared  that  he  could  not 
desire  a  better  match.  The  princess,  with  the  skill  which 
women  have  for  avoiding  the  question,  insisted  that  Kitty 
was  very  young  ;  that  she  did  not  show  great  partiality  for 
Levin  ;  and,  moreover,  that  he  did  not  seem  to  be  serious 
in  his  attentions.  But  she  did  not  express  what  was  in  the 
bottom  of  her  heart,  —  that  she  was  ambitious  for  a  more 
brilliant  marriage,  that  Levin  did  not  appeal  to  her  sympa- 
thies, and  that  she  did  not  understand  him.  And  when 
Levin  took  a  sudden  leave  for  the  country  she  was  delighted, 
and  said,  with  an  air  of  triumph,  to  her  husband,  "  You  see, 
I  was  right."  When  Vronsky  appeared  upon  the  scene,  she 
was  still  more  delighted,  and  her  hopes  of  seeing  Kitty  not 
only  well  but  brilliantly  married,  were  more  than  confirmed. 

For  the  princess  there  was  no  comparison  between  the  two 
suitors.  The  mother  disliked  Levin's  brusque  and  strange 
way  of  looking  at  things,  his  awkwardness  in  society,  which 
she  attributed  to  his  pride  and  what  she  called  his  savage 
life  in  the  country,  occupied  with  his  cattle  and  peasants. 
And  she  was  still  more  displeased  because  Levin,  though  he 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  51 

was  in  love  with  her  daughter,  and  had  been  a  frequent  vis- 
itor at  their  house  for  six  weeks,  had  appeared  like  a  man 
who  was  hesitating,  watching,  and  questioning  whether,  if  he 
should  offer  himself,  the  honor  which  he  conferred  upon  them 
would  not  be  too  great.  Was  it  not  customary  for  one  who 
comes  assiduously  to  a  house  where  there  was  a  marriageable 
daughter,  to  declare  his  intentions?  And  then  his  sudden 
departure  without  informing  any  one!  "  Jt  is  fortunate," 
the  mother  thought,  "•  that  he  is  so  unattractive,  and  that 
Kitty  has  not  fallen  in  love  with  him." 

Vronsky,  on  the  other  hand,  satisfied  all  her  requirements  : 
he  was  rich,  intelligent,  of  good  birth,  with  a  brilliant  career 
at  court  or  in  the  army  before  him,  and,  moreover,  he  was 
charming.  Nothing  better  could  be  desired.  Vronsky  was 
devoted  to  Kitty  at  the  balls,  danced  with  her,  and  called 
upon  her  parents  :  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  his  intentions 
were  serious.  And  yet  the  poor  mother  had  passed  a  winter 
full  of  doubts  and  perplexities. 

"When  the  princess  herself  was  married,  through  the  influ- 
ence of  an  aunt,  she  was  thirty  years  old.  llerjiance,  who 
was  well  known  by  reputation,  came  to  see  her  and  to  show 
himself :  the  interview  was  favorable,  and  the"  intermediary 
announced  the  impression  produced.  On  the  following  day 
the  otlicial  demand  was  made  upon  the  parents,  and  granted, 
and  all  had  passed  off  very  simply  and  naturally.  At  least, 
so  it  seemed  to  the  princess,  as  she  looked  back  to  it.  But 
when  she  came  to  see  her  own  daughters  married,  she  learned 
by  experience  how  difficult  and  complicated  in  reality  this 
apparently  simple  matter  was.  What  anxieties,  what  cares, 
what  waste  of  money,  what  collisions  with  her  husband, 
when  the  time  came  for  Dolly  and  Natali  to  be  married  ! 
And  now  she  was  obliged  to  pass  through  the  same  anxieties, 
and  with  even  more  bitter  quarrels  with  her  husband.  The 
old  prince,  like  all  fathers,  was  excessively  punctilious  about 
every  thing  that  concerned  the  honor  and  purity  of  his 
daughters :  he  was  distressingly  jealous  of  them,  especially 
of  Kitty,  his  favorite,  and  at  every  opportunit}'  he  accused 
his  wife  of  compromising  his  daughter.  The  princess  had 
become  accustomed  to  these  scenes  from  the  days  of  her 
elder  daughters,  but  she  confessed  that  her  husband's  strictr 
ness  was  founded  on  reason.  Many  of  the  practices  of 
society  had  undergone  a  change,  and  the  duties  of  mothers 
were  becoming  more  and  more  difficult.  She  saw  how 


52  ANNA   KARfiNINA, 

Kitty's  yonng  friends  went  freely  into  society,  rode  horse- 
back, were  forward  with  men.  went  out  to  drive  with  them 
alone  :  she  saw  that  many  of  them  no  longer  made  courtesies, 
and,  what  was  more  serious,  each  of  them  was  firmly  con- 
vinced that  the  business  of  choosing  a  husband  was  incum- 
bent on  her  alone,  and  not  at  all  on  her  parents.  "  Marriages 
aren't  made  as  they  used  to  be,"  were  the  thoughts  and  re- 
marks of  these  young  ladies,  and  even  of  some  of  the  older 
people.  "But  how  are  marriages  made  nowadays?"  and 
this  question  the  princess  could  not  get  any  one  to  answer. 
The  French  custom,  which  allows  the  parents  full  liberty  to 
decide  the  lot  of  their  children,  was  not  accepted,  wras  even 
bitterly  criticised.  The  English  custom,  which  allows  the 
girls  absolute  liberty,  was  not  admissible.  The  Russian 
custom  of  marriage,  through  an  intermediary,  was  regarded 
as  a  relic  of  barbarism :  everybody  ridiculed  it,  even  the 
princess  herself.  But  she  was  unable  to  decide  what  course 
of  action  to  take.  Every  one  with  whom  the  princess 
talked  said  the  same  thing:  "It  is  high  time  to  renounce 
those  exploded  notions ;  it  is  the  young  folks  and  not  the 
old  who  get  married,  and,  therefore,  it  is  for  them  to  make 
their  arrangements  in  accordance  with  their  own  ideas."  It 
was  well  enough  for  those  without  daughters  to  say  this  ;  but 
the  princess  knew  well,  that  if  she  allowed  Kitt}-  to  enjoy 
the  society  of  young  men,  she  ran  the  risk  of  seeing  her  fall 
in  love  w  ith  some  one  whom  her  parents  would  not  approve, 
who  would  not  make  her  a  good  husband,  or  would  not 
dream  of  marrying  her.  According  to  the  views  of  the 
princess,  one  might  better  give  five-year-old  children  loaded 
pistols  as  playthings,  than  allow  young  people  to  marry  ac- 
cording to  their  own  pleasure,  without  the  aid  of  their  par- 
ents. And,  therefore,  Kitty  gave  her  mother  much  more 
solicitude  than  either  of  the  other  daughters  had. 

Just  at  present  her  fear  was  that  Vronsky  would  content 
himself  with  playing  the  gallant.  She  saw  that  Kitty  was 
in  love  with  him,  and  she  felt  assured  only  when  she  thought 
that  he  was  a  man  of  honor ;  but  she  could  not  hide  the 
fact,  that,  through  the  new  liberty  allowed  in  society,  it 
would  be  very  easy  for  a  man  of  the  world  to  turn  the  head 
of  a  young  girl,  without  feeling  the  least  scruple  at  enjoying 
this  new  sort  of  intoxication.  The  week  before  Kitty  had 
told  her  mother  of  a  conversation  which  she  had  held  with 
Vronsky  during  a  mazurka,  and  this  conversation  seemed 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  53 

significant  to  the  princess,  though  it  did  not  absolutely  sat- 
isfy her.  Vronsky  told  Kitty  that  he  and  his  brother  were 
both  so  used  to  letting  their  mother  decide  things  for  them, 
that  they  never  undertook  any  thing  of  importance  without 
consulting  her.  "  And  now,"  he  added,  "  I  am  looking  for 
my  mother's  arrival  from  Petersburg  as  a  great  piece  of 
good  fortune." 

Kitty  reported  these  words  without  attaching  any  impor- 
tance to  them,  but  her  mother  gave  them  a  meaning  conform- 
able to  her  desire.  She  knew  that  the  old  countess  was 
expected  from  day  to  da}T,  and  that  she  would  be  satisfied 
with  her  son's  choice;  but  it  seemed  strange  to  her  that  he 
had  not  offered  himself  before  his  mother's  arrival,  as  though 
he  feared  to  offend  her.  In  spite  of  these  contradictions,  she 
gave  a  favorable  interpretation  to  these  words,  so  anxious 
was  she  to  escape  from  her  anxieties.  Bitterly  as  she  felt 
the  unhappiness  of  her  oldest  daughter,  Dolly,  who  was 
thinking  of  leaving  her  husband,  she  was  completely  ab- 
sorbed in  her  anxieties  about  her  youngest  daughter's  fate, 
which  seemed  to  be  trembling  in  the  balance.  Levin's  arri- 
val to-day  added  to  her  troubles.  She  feared  lest  Kitty, 
through  excessive  delicacy,  would  refuse  Vronsky  out  of 
respect  to  the  sentiment  which  she  had  once  felt  for  Levin. 
His  arrival  promised  to  throw  every  thing  into  confusion,  and 
to  postpone  a  long  desired  consummation. 

"Has  he  been  here  long?"  asked  the  princess  of  her 
daughter,  when  they  reached  home  after  their  meeting  with 
Levin. 

"  Since  yesterday,  maman." 

"I  have  one  thing  that  I  want  to  say  to  you,"  the  prin- 
cess began  ;  but  at  the  sight  of  her  serious  and  agitated  face, 
Kitty  knew  what  was  coming. 

"  Mamma,"  said  she  blushing,  and  turning  quickly  to  her, 
"don't  speak  about  this,  I  beg  of  you,  —  1  beg  of  you.  I 
know,  I  know  all !  " 

She  felt  as  her  mother  felt,  but  the  motives  that  caused 
her  mother  to  feel  as  she  did  were  repugnant  to  her. 

"  I  only  want  to  say  that  as  3-011  have  given  hope  to  one  "  — 

"  Mamma,  galubchik  [darling],  don't  speak.  It's  so  ter- 
rible to  speak  about  this." 

"I  will  not,"  replied  her  mother,  seeing  the  tears  in  her 
eyes:  "only  one  word,  moya  dn$ha  [my  soul]  ^  you  have 
promised  to  have  no  secrets  from  me." 


54  AVNA   KARtiNINA. 

"Never,  mamma,  never!  "  looking  her  mother  full  in  the 
face  and  blushing:  "hut  I  have  nothing  to  tell  —  now.  I 
—  I  —  even  if  I  wanted  to,  I  could  not  say  what  and  how  — 
I  could  not ' '  — 

'•  No,  with  those  eyes  she  cannot  speak  a  falsehood,"  was 
the  mother's  thought,  smiling  at  her  emotion.  The  princess 
smiled  to  think  how  momentous  appeared  to  the  poor  girl  the 
thoughts  that  were  passing  in  her  heart. 


XIII. 

AFTER  dinner,  and  during  the  first  part  of  the  evening, 
Kitty  felt  as  a  young  man  feels  who  is  about  to  fight  his  first 
duel.  Her  heart  beat  violently,  and  it  was  impossible  for 
her  to  collect  and  concentrate  her  thoughts.  She  felt  that 
this  evening,  when  they  two  should  meet  for  the  first  time, 
would  decide  her  fate.  She  saw  them  in  her  imagination, 
sometimes  together,  sometimes  separately.  When  she  thought 
of  the  past,  pleasure,  almost  tenderness,  filled  her  heart  at 
the  remembrance  of  her  relations  with  Levin.  The  friend- 
ship which  he  had  shown  for  her  departed  brother,  their  own 
childish  confidences,  invested  him  with  a  certain  poetic  charm. 
She  found  it  agreeable  to  think  of  him,  and  to  feel  that  he 
loved  her,  for  she  could  not  doubt  that  he  loved  her,  and 
she  was  proud  of  it.  On  the  other  hand,  she  felt  uneasy 
when  she  thought  about  Vrousky,  and  perceived  that  there 
was  something  false  in  their  relationship,  for  which  she 
blamed  herself,  not  him  ;  for  he  had  in  the  highest  degree 
the  calmness  and  self-possession  of  a  man  of  the  world,  and 
always  remained  friendly  and  natural.  All  was  clear  and 
simple  in  her  relations  with  Levin.  But  while  Vrousky 
seemed  to  offer  her  dazzling  promises  and  a  brilliant  future, 
the  future  with  Levin  seemed  enveloped  in  mist. 

After  dinner  Kitty  went  to  her  room  to  dress  for  the  re- 
ception. As  she  stood  before  the  mirror  she  felt  that  she 
was  looking  her  loveliest,  and,  what  was  most  important  on 
this  occasion,  that  she  was  mistress  of  her  forces,  for  she 
felt  at  ease,  and  entirely  self-possessed. 

At  half-past  seven,  as  she  was  descending  to  the  s«Zon,  the 
servant  announced,  "  Konstautin  Dmitritch  Levin."  The 
princess  was  still  in  her  room  :  the  prince  had  not  yet  come 
down.  "It  has  come  at  last,"  thought  Kitty;  aud  all  the 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  55 

blood  rushed  to  her  heart.  As  she  passed  a  mirror,  she  was 
startled  to  see  how  pale  she  looked.  She  knew  now,  for  a 
certainty,  that  he  had  come  early,  so  as  to  find  her  alone  and 
offer  himself.  And  instantly  the  situation  appeared  to  her 
for  the  first  time  in  a  new,  strange  light.  It  no  longer  con- 
cerned herself  alone  ;  nor  was  it  a  question  of  knowing  who 
would  make  her  happy,  or  to  whom  she  would  give  the  pref- 
erence. .She  felt  that  she  was  about  to  wound  a  man  whom 
she  liked,  and  to  wound  him  cruelly.  Why,  why  was  it  that 
such  a  charming  man  loved  her?  Why  had  he  fallen  in  love 
with  her?  But  it  was  too  late  to  mend  matters  :  it  was  fated 
to  be  so. 

"  Merciful  heaven  !  Is  it  possible  that  I  myself  have  got 
to  give  him  an  answer?"  she  thought,  —  "that  I  must  tell 
him  that  I  don't  love  him?  It  is  not  true !  But  what  can  I 
say?  That  I  love  another?  Impossible.  I  will  run  away, 
I  will  run  away  !  " 

She  was  already  at  the  door,  when  she  heard  his  step. 
"  No,  it  is  not  honorable.  What  have  I  to  fear?  I  have  done 
nothing  wrong.  Let  come  what  will.  I  will  tell  the  truth !  I 
shall  not  be  ill  at  ease  with  him.  Ah,  here  he  is !  "  she  said 
to  herself,  as  she  saw  his  strong  but  timid  countenance,  with 
his  brilliant  eyes  fixed  upon  her.  She  looked  him  full  in  the 
face,  with  an  air  that  seemed  to  implore  his  protection,  and 
extended  her  hand. 

"I  came  rather  earl}-,  seems  to  me,"  said  he,  casting  a 
glance  about  the  empty  room  ;  and  when  he  saw  that  Ire  was 
not  mistaken,  and  that  nothing  would  prevent  him  from  speak- 
ing, his  face  grew  solemn. 

"  Oh.  no  !  "  said  Kitty,  sitting  down  near  a  table. 

"  But  it  is  exactly  what  I  wanted,  so  that  I  might  find  you 
alone,"  he  began,  without  sitting,  and  without  looking  at  her, 
lest  he  should  lose  his  courage. 

"  Mamma  will  be  here  in  a  moment.  She  was  very  tired 
to-day.  To-day"  — 

She  spoke  without  thinking  what  she  said,  and  did  not  take 
her  imploring  and  gentle  gaze  from  his  face. 

Levin  turned  to  her :  she  blushed,  and  stopped  speaking. 

"  I  told  you  to-day  that  I  did  not  know  how  long  I  should 
stay  ;  that  it  depended  on  you  "  — 

Kitty  drooped  her  head  lower  and  lower,  not  knowing  how 
she  should  reply  to  the  words  that  he  was  going  to  speak. 

"  That  it  depended  upon  you,"  he  repeated.     "I  meant  — 


56  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

I  meant  — I  came  for  this,  that  — be  my  wife,"  he  mur- 
mured, not  kuowing  what  he  had  said,  but  feeling  that  he 
had  got  through  the  worst  of  the  difficulty.  Then  he  stopped, 
and  looked  at  her. 

She  felt  almost  suffocated:  she  did  not  raise  her  head. 
Her  heart  was  full  of  happiness.  Never  could  she  have  be- 
lieved that  the  declaration  of  his  love  would  make  such  a 
deep  impression  upon  her.  But  this  impression  lasted  only 
a  moment.  She  remembered  Vronsky.  She  lifted  her  sin- 
cere and  liquid  eyes  to  Levin,  whose  agitated  face  she  saw, 
and  then  said  hastily, — 

•'  This  cannot  be  !     Forgive  me  !  " 

How  near  to  him,  a  moment  since,  she  had  been,  and  how 
necessary  to  his  life  !  and  now  how  far  away  and  strange  she 
suddenly  seemed  to  be  ! 

"It  could  not  have  been  otherwise,"  he  said,  without 
looking  at  her. 

He  bowed,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  room. 


XIV. 

AT  this  instant  the  princess  entered.  Apprehension  was 
pictured  on  her  face  when  she  saw  their  agitated  faces,  and 
that  they  had  been  alone.  Levin  bowed  low,  and  did  not 
speak.  Kitty  was  silent,  and  did  not  raise  her  ayes.  "  Thank 
God,  she  has  refused  him!  "  thought  the  mother;  and  the 
smile  with  which  she  always  received  her  Thursday  guests 
re-appeared  upon  her  lips.  She  sat  down,  and  began  to  ask 
Levin  questions  about  his  life  in  the  country.  He  also  sat 
down,  hoping  to  escape  unobserved  when  the  guests  began  to 
arrive.  Five  minutes  later,  one  of  Kitty's  friends,  who  had 
been  married  the  winter  before,  was  announced,  —  the  Count- 
ess Nordstone.  She  was  a  dried-up,  yellow,  nervous,  sickly 
woman,  with  great  black  eyes.  She  was  fond  of  Kitty,  and 
her  affection,  like  that  of  every  married  woman  for  a  young 
girl,  was  expressed  by  a  keen  desire  to  have  her  married  in 
accordance  with  her  own  ideas  of  conjugal  happiness.  She 
wanted  to  marry  her  to  Vronsky.  Levin,  whom  she  had 
often  met  at  the  Shcherbatskys'  the  first  of  the  winter,  was 
always  distasteful  to  her,  and  her  favorite  occupation,  after 
she  had  met  him  in  society,  was  to  make  sport  of  him. 

"  I  am  enchanted,"  she  said,  "  when  he  looks  down  upon 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  57 

me  from  his  imposing  loftiness,  or  when  he  fails  to  honor  me 
with  his  learned  conversation  because  I  am  too  silly  for  him 
to  condescend  to.  I  am  enchanted  that  he  cannot  endure 
me."  She  was  right,  because  the  fact  was,  that  Levin  could 
not  endure  her,  and  he  despised  her  for  being  proud  of  what 
she  regarded  as  a  merit,  —  her  nervous  temperament,  her  in- 
difference and  delicate  ecorn  for  all  that  seemed  to  her  gross 
and  material. 

The  relationship  between  Levin  and  the  Countess  Nord- 
stone  was  such  as  is  often  met  with  in  society  where  two 
persons,  friends  in  outward  appearance,  despise  each  other 
to  such  a  degree  that  they  cannot  hold  a  serious  conversa- 
tion, or  even  clash  with  each  other. 

The  Countess  Nordstone  instantly  addressed  herself  to 
Levin  :  "  Ah,  Konstantin  Dmitrievitch  !  are  }'ou  back  again 
in  our  abominable  Babylon?"  said  she,  giving  him  her  little 
thin  hand,  and  recalling  his  own  jest  that  he  had  made  at 
the  beginning  of  the  winter  when  he  compared  Moscow  to 
Babylon.  "Is  Babylon  converted,  or  have  you  been  cor- 
rupted?" she  added  with  a  mocking  smile  in  Kitty's  direc- 
tion. 

"  I  am  greatly  flattered,  countess,  that  you  kept  such  ac- 
curate account  of  my  words,"  replied  Levin,  who,  having  had 
time  to  collect  his  thoughts,  instantly  entered  into  the  face- 
tiously hostile  tone  peculiar  to  his  relations  with  the  Countess 
Nordstone.  "It  seems  that  they  have  made  a  very  deep 
impression  upon  you." 

''Ark!  how  so?  But  I  shall  make  notes.  Nu!  how  is  it, 
Kitty,  have  you  been  skating  to-day?"  And  she  began  to 
talk  with  her  young  friend. 

Although  it  was  scarcely  decent  to  take  his  departure  now, 
Levin  would  have  preferred  to  commit  this  breach  of  eti- 
quette rather  than  endure  the  punishment  of  remaining 
through  the  evening,  and  to  see  Kitty,  who  was  secretly 
watching  him,  though  she  pretended  not  to  look  at  him.  He 
therefore  attempted  to  get  np ;  but  the  princess  noticed  his 
movement,  and,  turning  toward  him,  she  said, — 

"  Do  you  intend  to  remain  long  in  Moscow?  You  are  jus- 
tice of  the  peace  in  your  district,  are  you  not?  and  I  suppose 
that  will  prevent  you  from  making  a  long  stay." 

'•  No.  princess,  I  have  resigned  that  office,"  he  said.  "I 
have  come  to  stay  several  days." 

"  Something  has  happened  to  him,"  thought  the  Countess 


58  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

Nordstone,  as  she  saw  Levin's  stern  and  serious  face, 
"  because  he  does  not  launch  out  into  his  usual  tirades  ;  but 
I'll  soon  draw  him  out.  Nothing  amuses  me  more  than  to 
make  him  ridiculous  before  Kitty." 

"Konstantin  Dmitritch,"  she  said  to  him,  "  you  who  know 
all  things,  please  explain  this  to  me  :  at  our  estate  in  Kaluga 
all  the  muzhiks  [peasants]  and  their  wives  drink  up  all  that 
they  own,  and  don't  pay  what  they  owe  us.  You  are  always 
praising  the  muzhiks:  what  does  this  mean?  " 

At  this  moment  a  lady  came  in,  and  Levin  arose  :  "  Excuse 
me,  countess,  I  know  nothing  at  all  about  it,  and  I  cannot 
answer  your  question,"  said  he,  looking  at  an  officer,  who 
entered  at  the  same  time  with  the  lady. 

"That  must  be  Vrousky,"  he  thought,  and  to  confirm  his 
surmise  he  glanced  at  Kitty.  She  had  already  had  time  to 
perceive  Vronsky,  and  observe  Levin.  When  he  saw  the 
young  girl's  shining  eyes,  Levin  saw  that  she  loved  that 
man,  he  saw  it  as  clearly  as  though  she  herself  had  confessed 
it  to  him.  But  what  sort  of  a  man  was  he?  Now  —  whether 
for  good  or  ill  —  Levin  could  not  help  remaining :  he  must 
find  out  for  himself  what  sort  of  a  man  it  was  that  she 
loved. 

There  are  men  who,  in  presence  of  a  fortunate  rival,  are 
disposed  to  deny  that  there  are  any  good  qualities  in  him  ; 
others,  on  the  contrary,  endeavor  to  discover  nothing  but 
the  merits  which  have  won  him  his  success,  and  with  sore 
hearts  to  attribute  to  him  nothing  but  good.  Levin  belonged 
to -the  latter  class.  It  was  not  hard  for  him  to  discover  what 
amiable  and  attractive  qualities  Vronsky  possessed.  They 
were  apparent  at  a  glance.  He  was  dark,  of  medium  stat- 
ure, and  well  proportioned  ;  his  face  was  handsome,  calm, 
and  friendly  ;  every  thing  about  his  person,  from  his  black, 
short-cut  hair,  and  his  freshly  shaven  chin,  to  his  new,  well- 
fitting  uniform  was  simple  and  perfectly  elegant.  Vronsky 
allowed  the  lady  to  pass  before  him,  then  he  approached  the 
princess,  and  finally  came  to  Kitty.  It  seemed  to  Levin  that, 
as  he  drew  near  her,  her  beautiful  eyes  shone  with  deeper 
tenderness,  and  that  her  smile  expressed  a  joy  mingled  with 
triumph.  He  extended  toward  her  his  hand  which  was  small, 
but  rather  wide,  and  bowed  respectfully.  After  bowing  and 
speaking  a  few  words  to  each  of  the  ladies  to  whom  he  was 
presented,  he  sat  down  without  having  seen  Levin,  who  never 
once  took  his  eyes  from  him. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  59 

"Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  make  you  acquainted,"  said 
the  princess  turning  to  Levin :  "  Konstantin  Dmitritch 
Levin,  Count  Aleksei  Kirillovitch  Vronsky." 

Vronsky  arose,  and,  with  a  friendly  look  into  Levin's  eyes, 
shook  hands  with  him. 

"It  seems,"  said  he,  with  his  frank  and  pleasant  smile, 
"  that  I  was  to  have  had  the  honor  of  dining  with  you  this 
winter  ;  but  you  went  off  unexpectedly  to  the  country." 

"  Konstantin  Dmitritch  despises  and  shuns  the  city,  and 
us,  its  denizens,"  said  the  Countess  Nordstone. 

"  It  must  be  that  my  words  impress  you  deeply,  since  you 
remember  them  so  well,"  said  Levin  ;  and,  perceiving  that 
he  had  already  made  this  remark,  he  blushed  deeply. 

Vronsky  looked  at  Levin  and  the  countess,  and  smiled : 
"  So,  then,  you  always  live  in  the  country?  "  he  asked.  "  I 
should  think  it  would  be  tiresome  in  winter." 

"Not  if  one  has  enough  to  do  ;  besides,  one  does  not  get 
tired  of  himself,"  said  Levin  in  a  sour  tone. 

"I  like  the  country,"  said  Vronsky,  noticing  Levin's  tone, 
and  appearing  not  to  notice  it. 

"  But  you  would  not  consent  to  live  always  in  the  country, 
I  hope,"  said  the  Countess  Nordstone. 

"I  don't  know;  I  never  made  a  long  stay ;  but  I  once 
felt  a  strange  sensation,"  he  added.  "  Never  have  I  so  ea- 
gerly longed  for  the  country,  the  real  Russian  country  with 
its  muzhiks,  as  during  the  winter  that  I  spent  at  Nice  with 
my  mother.  Nice,  you  know,  is  melancholy  anywaA" ;  and 
Naples,  Sorrento,  are  pleasant  only  for  a  short  time.  It  is 
then  that  one  remembers  Russia  most  tenderly,  and  espe- 
cially the  country.  One  would  say  that  "  — 

He  spoke,  now  addressing  Kitty,  now  Levin,  turning  his 
calm  and  friendly  face  from  one  to  the  other,  as  he  said 
whatever  came  into  his  head. 

As  the  Countess  Nordstone  seemed  desirous  to  put  in  her 
word,  he  stopped,  without  finishing  his  phrase,  and  listened 
attentively. 

The  conversation  did  not  languish  a  single  instant,  so  that 
the  old  princess  had  no  need  of  advancing  her  unfailing 
themes,  her  two  heavy  guns,  —  classic  and  scientific  educa- 
tion, and  the  general  compulsory  conscription,  —  which  she 
held  in  reserve  in  case  the  silence  became  prolonged.  The 
countess  did  not  even  have  a  chance  to  rally  Levin. 

He  wanted  to  join  in  the  general  conversation,  but  was 


60  ANNA  KARtiNlNA. 

unable.  He  kept  saying  to  himsejf,  "Now,  I'll  go;"  and 
still  he  waited  as  though  he  expected  something. 

The  conversation  turned  on  table-tipping  and  spiritism  ; 
and  the  Countess  Nordstone,  who  was  a  believer  iu  it,  began 
to  relate  the  marvels  which  she  had  seen. 

"  Ach,  countess!  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  take  me  to  see 
them.  I  never  yet  saw  any  thing  extraordinary,  anxious  as 
I  have  always  been,"  said  Vronsky  smiling. 

"Good;  next  Saturday,"  replied  the  countess.  "But 
you,  Konstantin  Dmitritch,  do  you  believe  in  it?"  she 
demanded  of  Levin. 

"Why  did  you  ask  me?  You  knew  perfectly  well  what 
my  answer  would  be." 

"  Because  1  wanted  to  hear  your  opinion." 

"  My  opinion  is  simply  this,"  replied  Levin  :  "  that  table- 
tipping  proves  that  good  society  is  scarcely  more  advanced 
than  the  peasantry.  The  muzhiks  believe  in  the  evil  e}re,  in 
casting  lots,  in  sorceries,  while  we  "  — 

"  That  means  that  you  don't  believe  in  it." 

"  I  cannot  believe  in  it,  countess." 

"  But  if  I  myself  have  seen  these  things?  " 

"  The  babui  [peasant  women]  also  say  that  they  have  seen 
the  domovo'i"  [household  spirits]. 

"  Then,  you  think  that  I  do  not  tell  the  truth?  "  And  she 
broke  into  an  unpleasant  laugh. 

"  But  no,  Masha.  Konstantin  Dmitritch  simply  says  that 
he  cannot  believe  in  spiritism,"  interrupted  Kitty,  blushing 
for  Levin  ;  and  Levin  understood  her,  and  began  to  speak 
in  a  still  more  irritated  tone.  But  Vronsky  came  to  the  rescue, 
and  with  a  gentle  smile  brought  back  the  conversation,  which 
threatened  to  go  beyond  the  bounds  of  politeness. 

"  You  do  not  admit  at  all  the  possibility  of  its  being  true  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  Why  not?  We  willingly  admit  the  existence  of 
electricity,  which  we  do  not  understand.  Why  should  there 
not  exist  a  new  force,  as  yet  unknown,  which  "  — 

"When  electricity  was  discovered,"  interruped  Levin 
eagerly,  "  only  its  phenomena  had  been  seen,  and  it  was  not 
known  what  produced  them,  nor  whence  the}-  arose  ;  and  cen- 
turies passed  before  people  dreamed  of  making  application 
of  it.  Spiritualists,  on  the  other  hand,  have  begun  by  mak- 
ing tables  write,  and  calling  spirits  out  of  them,  and  it  is 
only  afterwards  that  it  was  proposed  to  explain  it  by  an  un- 
known force." 


ANNA  KAEtiNlNA.  61 

Vronsky  listened  attentively,  as  was  his  custom,  and  seemed 
interested  in  Levin's  words. 

"Yes;  but  the  spiritualists  say,  'We  do  not  yet  know 
what  this  force  is,  and  at  the  same  time  it  is  a  force,  and 
acts  under  certain  conditions.'  Let  the  scientists  find  out 
what  it  is.  Why  should  it  not  be  a  new  force  if  it "  — 

"  Because,"  interrupted  Levin  again,  "  every  time  you  rub 
wood  with  resin,  you  produce  a  certain  and  invariable  electri- 
cal action  ;  while  spiritism  brings  no  invariable  result,  and 
consequently  its  effects  cannot  be  regarded  as  natural  phe- 
nomena." 

Vronsky,  perceiving  that  the  conversation  was  growing  too 
serious  for  a  reception,  made  no  reply  ;  and,  in  order  to  make 
a  diversion,  said,  smiling  gayly,  and  turning  to  the  ladies, — 

"  Countess,  why  don't  you  make  the  experiment  right 
now?"  But  Levin  wanted  to  finish  saying  what  was  in  his 
mind. 

"I  think,"  he  continued,  "that  the  attempts  made  by 
spiritual  mediums  to  explain  their  miracles  by  a  new  force, 
cannot  succeed.  They  claim  that  it  is  a  supernatural  force, 
and  yet  they  want  to  submit  it  to  a  material  test."  All  were 
waiting  for  him  to  come  to  an  end,  and  he  felt  it. 

"  And  I  think  that  you  would  be  a  capital  medium,"  said 
the  Countess  Marya  Nordstone.  "There  is  something  so 
enthusiastic  about  you  !  " 

Levin  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  but  he  said  nothing,  and 
blushed. 

"  Come,  ladies,  let  us  arrange  the  tables,  and  give  them  a 
trial,"  said  Vronsky:  "with  your  permission,  princess." 
And  Vronsky  rose,  and  looked  for  a  table. 

Kitty  was  standing  by  a  table,  and  her  e}Tes  met  Levin's". 
Her  whole  soul  pitied  him,  because  she  felt  that  she  was  the 
cause  of  his  pain.  Her  look  said,  "  Forgive  me  if  you  can. 
I  am  so  happy."  And  his  look  replied,  "  I  hate  the  whole 
world,  — you  and  myself."  He  went  to  get  his  hat. 

But  fate  once  more  was  unpropitious.  Hardly  had  the 
guests  taken  their  places  around  the  table,  and  he  was  about 
to  go  out,  when  the  old  prince  entered,  and,  after  bowing  to 
the  ladies,  went  straight  to  Levin. 

"Ah!"  he  cried  joyfully.  "What  a  stranger!  I  did 
flot  know  that  you  were  here.  Very  glad  to  see  you  !  " 

In  speaking  to  Levin  the  prince  sometimes  used  tui  (thou) , 
and  sometimes  vui  (you).  He  took  him  by  the  arm,  and 


62  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

while  conversing  with  him,  gave  no  notice  to  Vronsky,  who 
was  standing  behind  Levin,  waiting  patiently  to  bow  as  soon 
as  the  prince  should  see  him. 

Kitty  felt  that  her  father's  friendliness  must  seem  hard  to 
Levin  after  what  had  happened.  She  also  noticed  how  coldly 
her  father  at  last  acknowledged  Vronsky 's  bow,  and  how 
Vronsky  seemed  to  ask  himself,  with  good-humored  surprise, 
what  this  icy  reception  meant,  and  she  blushed. 

"Prince,"  let  us  have  Konstantin  Dmitritch,"  said  the 
Countess  Nordstone.  "  We  want  to  try  an  experiment." 

"  What  sort  of  an  experiment?  table-tipping?  Nu!  ex- 
cuse me,  ladies  and  gentlemen  ;  but,  in  my  opinion,  kaletchki 
[grace-hoops]  would  be  more  amusing,"  said  the  prince, 
looking  at  Vronsky,  whom  he  took  to  be  the  originator  of 
this  sport.  "  At  least  there's  some  sense  in  grace-hoops." 

Vronsky,  astonished,  turned  his  steady  eyes  upon  the  old 
prince,  and,  gently  smiling,  began  to  speak  with  the  Countess 
Nordstone  about  the  arrangements  for  a  ball  to  be  given  the 
following  week. 

"  I  hope  that  you  will  be  there,"  said  he,  turning  to  Kitty. 

As  soon  as  the  old  prince  had  gone,  Levin  made  his  escape  ; 
and  the  last  impression  which  he  bore  away  from  this  recep- 
tion was  Kitty's  happy,  smiling  face,  answering  Vrousky  in 
regard  to  the  ball. 

XV. 

AFTER  the  reception,  Kitty  told  her  mother  of  her  conver- 
sation with  Levin  ;  and,  in  spite  of  all  the  pain  that  she 
had  caused  him,  the  thought  that  he  had  asked  her  to 
marry  him  flattered  her.  But  while  she  felt  the  conviction 
that  she  had  acted  properly,  it  was  long  before  she  could 
go  to  sleep.  One  memory  constantly  arose  in  her  mind : 
it  was  Levin  as  he  stood  near  her  father,  looking  at  her 
and  Vronsky  with  gloomy,  melancholy  eyes.  She  could  not 
keep  back  the  tears.  But,  as  she  thought  of  him  who  had 
replaced  Levin  in  her  regards,  she  saw  vividly  his  hand- 
some, strong,  and  manly  face,  his  self-possession,  so  digni- 
fied, his  air  of  benevolence :  she  recalled  his  love  for  her, 
and  how  she  loved  him  ;  and  joy  came  back  to  her  heart. 
She  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow,  and  smiled  with  happiness. 
"  It  is  too  bad,  too  bad;  but  I  can't  help  it,  it  is  not  my 
fault,"  she  said  to  herself,  although  an  inward  voice  wins- 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  63 

pered  the  contrary.  Ought  she  to  reproach  herself  for 
having  been  attracted  to  Levin,  or  for  having  refused  him? 
She  did  not  know,  but  her  happiness  was  not  unalloyed. 
"  Lord,  have  pity  upon  me  !  Lord,  have  pity  upon  me  !  Lord, 
have  pity  upon  me  !  "  she  repeated  until  she  went  to  sleep. 

Meantime  there  was  going  on  in  the  prince's  little  library 
one  of  those  scenes  which  frequently  occurred  between  the 
parents  in  regard  to  their  favorite  daughter. 

"What?  This  is  what!"  cried  the  prince,  raising  his 
arms  in  spite  of  the  awkwardness  of  his  fur-lined  dressing- 
gown.  "  You  have  neither  pride  nor  dignit}* :  you  are  ruin- 
ing your  daughter  with  this  low  and  ridiculous  manner  of 
hunting  a  husband  for  her." 

"  But,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  prince,  what  have  I  done?  ". 
said  the  princess  in  tears. 

She  had  come,  as  usual,  to  say  good-night  to  her  husband ; 
and  feeling  very  happy  over  her  conversation  with  her  daugh- 
ter, and  though  she  had  not  ventured  to  breathe  a  word  of 
Kitty's  rejection  of  Levin,  she  allowed  herself  to  allude  to 
the  project  of  her  marriage  with  Vronsky,  which  she  looked 
upon  as  settled,  as  soon  as  the  countess  should  arrive.  At 
these  words  the  prince  had  fallen  into  a  passion,  and  had 
addressed  her  with  unpleasant  reproaches. 

"  What  have  you  done?  In  the  first  place,  you  have 
decoyed  a  husband  for  her ;  and  all  Moscow  will  say  so,  and 
with  justice.  If  you  want  to  give  receptions,  give  them,  by 
all  means,  but  invite  everybody,  and  not  suitors  of  your 
own  choice.  Invite  all  these  tiittkof"  [dudes],  —  thus  the 
prince  called  the  young  fellows  of  Moscow,  —  "  have  some- 
body to  play,  and  let  'em  dance  ;  but  don't  arrange  such 
interviews  as  you  had  to-night.  It  seems  to  me  abom- 
inable, abominable  ;  and  you  will  get  the  worst  of  it.  You 
have  turned  the  girl's  head.  Levin  is  worth  a  thousand  men. 
And  as  to  this  Petersburg  idiot,  who  goes  as  if  he  were 
worked  by  machinery,  he  and  all  his  kind  are  alike,  —  all 
trash  !  My  daughter  has  no  need  of  going  out  of  her  way, 
even  for  a  prince  of  the  blood." 

"But  what  have  I  done?" 

"  Why,  this  "  —  cried  the  prince  angrily. 

"  I  know  well  enough,  that,  if  I  listen  to  you,"  interrupted 
the  princess,  "we  shall  never  see  our  daughter  married; 
and,  in  that  case,  we  might  just  as  well  go  into  the  country." 

"  That  certainly  would  be  better." 


64  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

"But  listen!  Have  I  made  any  advances?  No,  I  have 
not.  But  a  young  man,  and  a  very  handsome  young  man, 
is  in  love  with  her ;  and  she,  it  seems,"  — 

"  Yes,  so  it  seems  to  you.  But  suppose  she  should  be  in 
love  with  him,  and  he  have  as  much  intention  of  getting 
married  as  I  myself  ?  Och!  Haven't  I  eyes  to  see?  Ach, 
spiritism!  ac/i,  Nice!  ac/i,  the  ball!  Here  the  prince, 
attempting  to  imitate  his  wife,  made  a  courtesy  at  every 
word.  "  We  shall  be  very  proud  when  we  have  made  our 
Kationka  unhappy,  and  when,  on  account  of  this  very  thing, 
her  head  "  — 

"  But  what  makes  you  think  so?  " 

"I  don't  think  so,  I  know  so;  and  that's  why  we  have 
eyes,  and  you  mothers  haven't.  I  see  a  man  who  has  seri- 
ous intentions,  —  Levin  ;  and  I  see  a  fine  bird,  like  this  good- 
for-nothing,  who  is  merely  amusing  himself." 

"  Nu!  you,  too,  have  fine  ideas  in  your  head." 

"You  will  remember  what  I  have  said,  but  too  late,  as 
you  did  with  Ddshenka." 

"JVtt/  very  well,  very  well,  we  will  not  say  any  thing 
more  about  it,"  said  the  princess,  who  was  cut  short  by  the 
remembrance  of  Dolly. 

"  So  much  the  better,  and  good-night." 

The  husband  and  wife,  as  they  separated,  kissed  each  other 
good-night,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  as  usual ;  but  each 
remained  unchanged  in  opinion. 

The  princess  had  been  firmly  convinced  that  Kitty's  fate 
was  decided  by  the  events  of  the  evening,  and  she  felt  that 
Vronsky's  designs  were  evident ;  but  her  husband's  words 
troubled  her.  On  her  return  to  her  room,  as  she  thought  in 
terror  of  the  unknown  future,  she  followed  Kitty's  example, 
and  prayed  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  "  Lord,  have  pity  ! 
Lord,  have  pity  !  Lord,  have  pity  !  " 


XVI. 

VRONSKY  had  never  experienced  the  enjoyment  of  family 
life  :  his  mother,  a  woman  of  fashion,  who  had  been  very 
brilliant  in  her  youth,  had  taken  part  in  romantic  adventures 
during  her  husband's  lifetime,  and  after  his  death.  Vronsky 
had  never  known  his  father,  and  his  education  had  been 
given  him  in  the  School  of  Pages. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  65 

As  soon  as  the  brilliant  young  officer  had  graduated,  he 
began  to  move  in  the  highest  military  circles  of  Petersburg. 
Though  he  occasional!}'  went  into  general  society,  he  found 
nothing  as  yet  to  stir  the  interests  of  his  heart. 

It  was  at  Moscow  that  for  the  first  time  he  felt  the  charm 
of  familiar  intercourse  with  a  young  girl  of  good  family, 
lovely,  naive,  and  evidently  not  averse  to  his  attentions. 
The  contrast  with  his  luxurious  but  dissipated  life  in  Peters- 
burg enchanted  him,  and  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  com- 
plications might  arise  from  his  relations  with  Kitty.  At 
receptions  he  preferred  to  dance  with  her,  he  called  upon  her, 
talked  with  her  in  the  light  way  common  in  society  ;  all  that 
he  said  to  her  might  have  been  heard  by  others,  and  yet  he 
felt  that  these  trifles  had  a  different  significance  when  spoken 
to  her,  that  they  established  between  them  a  bond  which 
every  day  grew  closer  and  closer.  It  was  farthest  from  his 
thoughts  that  his  conduct  might  be  regarded  as  dishonorable, 
since  he  did  not  dream  of  marriage.  He  simply  imagined 
that  he  had  discovered  a  new  pleasure,  and  he  enjoyed  his 
discovery. 

What  would  have  been  his  surprise  could  he  have  heard 
the  conversation  between  Kitty's  parents,  could  he  have 
realized  that  Kitty  would  be  made  unhappy  if  he  did  not 
propose  to  her.  He  would  not  have  believed  that  this  frank 
and  charming  relationship  could  be  dangerous,  or  that  it 
brought  any  obligation  to  marry.  He  had  never  considered 
the  possibility  of  his  getting  married.  Not  only  was  family 
life  distasteful  to  him,  but  from  his  view  as  a  bachelor,  the 
family,  and  especially  the  husband,  belonged  to  a  strange, 
hostile,  and,  worst  of  all,  ridiculous  world.  But  though 
Vronsky  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of  the  conversation 
of  which  he  had  been  the  subject,  he  left  the  Shcherbatskys 
with  the  feeling  that  the  mysterious  bond  which  attached  him 
to  Kitty  was  closer  than  ever,  so  close,  indeed,  that  he  felt 
that  he  must  make  some  resolution.  But  what  resolution  he 
ought  to  make,  he  could  not  tell  for  the  life  of  him. 

"  How  charming !  "  he  thought,  as  he  went  to  his  rooms, 
feeling  as  he  always  felt  when  he  left  the  Shcherbatskys,  a 
deep  impression  of  purity  and  freshness,  arising  from  the 
fact  that  he  had  not  smoked  all  the  evening,  and  a  new  sen- 
sation of  tenderness  caused  by  her  love  for  him.  "How 
charming  that,  without  either  of  us  saying  any  thing,  we 
understand  each  other  so  perfectly  through  this  mute  Ian- 


66  ANNA   KAEtiNINA. 

guage  of  glances  and  tones,  so  that  to-day  more  than  ever 
before  she  told  me  that  she  loves  me!  And  how  lovely, 
natural,  and,  above  all,  confidential  she  was !  I  feel  that  I 
myself  am  better,  purer.  J  feel  that  I  have  a  heart,  and 
that  there  is  something  good  in  me.  Those  gentle,  lovely 
eyes  !  When  she  said  —  Nu  I  what  did  she  say  ?  Nothing 
much,  but  it  was  pleasant  for  me,  and  pleasant  for  her." 
And  he  reflected  how  he  could  best  finish  up  the  evening. 
"  Shall  it  be  the  k  club,'  a  hand  of  bezique,  and  some  cham- 
pagne with  Ignatof?  No,  not  there.  The  Chateau  des 
Fteurs,  to  find  Oblonsky,  songs,  and  the  cancan?  No,  it's  a 
bore.  And  this  is  just  why  I  like  the  Shcherbatskys, — be- 
cause I  feel  better  for  having  been  there.  I'll  go  home!  " 
He  went  to  his  room  at  Dusseaux's,  ordered  supper,  and 
scarcely  touched  his  head  to  the  pillow  before  he  was  sound 
asleep. 

XVII. 

THE  next  day,  about  eleven  o'clock,  Vronsky  went  to  the 
station  to  meet  his  mother  on  the  Petersburg  train  ;  and  the 
first  person  whom  he  saw  on  the  grand  staircase  was  Oblou- 
sky,  who  had  come  to  welcome  his  sister. 

"Ah!  your  excellency,"  cried  Oblonsky.  "Whom  are 
you  expecting  ?  ' ' 

"My  matushka,"  replied  Vronsky,  with  the  smile  with 
which  people  always  met  Oblonsky.  And,  after  shaking 
hands,  they  mounted  the  staircase  side  by  side.  "  She  was 
to  come  from  Petersburg  to-da}-." 

"  I  waited  for  you  till  two  o'clock  this  morning.  Where 
did  you  go  after  leaving  the  Shcherbatskys?  " 

"  Home,"  replied  Vronsky.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not 
feel  like  going  anywhere  after  such  a  pleasant  evening  at  the 
Shcherbatskys'." 

"  I  know  fiery  horses  by  their  brand,  and  young  people 
who  are  in  love  by  their  eyes,"  said  Stepan  Arkady evitch  in 
the  same  dramatic  tone  in  which  he  had  spoken  to  Levin  the 
evening  before. 

Vronsky  smiled,  as  much  as  to  say  that  he  did  not  deny 
it ;  but  he  hastened  to  change  the  conversation. 

"  And  whom  have  you  come  to  meet?  "  he  asked. 

"I?  a  very  pretty  woman,"  said  Oblousky. 

"Ah!  indeed!" 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  67 

"  Horn  soft  qui  mal  y  pense  !     My  sister  Anna  !  " 

"vie/*  /  Madame  Kaivnina?  "  asked  Vrousky. 

'  'Do  you  know  her,  then?  " 

"It  seems  to  me  that  I  do.  Or  —  no  —  truth  is,  I  don't 
think  I  do,"  replied  Vrousky  somewhat  confused.  The 
name  Kar£nma  brought  to  his  mind  a  tiresome  and  affected 
person. 

"  But  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  my  celebrated  brother-in- 
law,  you  must  know  him !  Everybody  in  creation  knows 
him." 

"  That  is,  I  know  him  by  reputation,  but  not  by  sight.  I 
know  that  he  is  talented,  learned,  and  something  divine  ;  but 
you  know  that  he  is  not  —  not  in  my  Zme,"  said  Vronsky  in 
English. 

"  Yes:  he  is  a  remarkable  man,  somewhat  conservative, 
but  a  famous  man,"  replied  Stepau  Arkadyevitch.  "A 
famous  man." 

"Nti!  so  much  the  better  for  him,"  said  Vronsky,  smil- 
ing. "Ah!  here  you  are,"  he  cried,  seeing  his  mother's 
old  lackey.  "This  way,"  he  added,  stationing  him  at  the 
door. 

Vronsky,  besides  experiencing  the  pleasure  that  everybody 
felt  in  seeing  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  had  for  some  time  espe- 
cially liked  being  in  his  society,  because,  in  a  certain  way,  it 
brought  him  closer  to  Kitty.  Therefore  he  took  him  by  the 
arm,  and  said  gayly,  "  Nu!  what  do  you  say  to  giving  the 
diva  a  supper  Sunday?  " 

"  Certainly:  I  will  pay  my  share.  Ach!  tell  me,  did  you 
meet  my  friend  Levin  last  evening?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  he  went  away  very  earl}-." 

"  He  is  a  famous  fellow,"  said  Oblonsky,  "  isn't  he?  " 

"  I  don't  know  why  it  is,"  replied  Vronsky,  "  but  all  the 
Muscovites,  present  company  excepted,". he  added  jestingly, 
"  have  something  sharp  about  them.  The}'  all  seem  to  be 
high-strung,  fiery-tempered,  as  though  they  all  wanted  to 
make  you  understand  "  — 

"  That  is  true  enough  :  it  is  "  —  replied  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch, smiling  pleasantly. 

"  Is  the  train  on  time?  "  demanded  Vronsky  of  an  employt. 

"  It  will  be  here  directly,"  replied  the  employ^. 

The  increasing  bustle  in  the  station,  the  coming  and  going 
of  the  artelshchiks.  the  appearance  of  policemen  and  officials, 
the  arrival  of  expectant  friends,  all  indicated  the  approach 


68  ANNA   K Alt  £  NINA. 

of  the  train.  The  morning  was  frosty ;  and  through  the 
steam,  workmen  could  be  seen,  dressed  in  their  winter  cos- 
tumes, silently  passing  in  their  felt  boots  amid  the  network 
of  rails.  The  whistle  of  the  coming  engine  was  already 
heard,  and  a  monstrous  object  seemed  to  be  advancing  with 
a  heavy  rumble. 

"  No,"  continued  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  who  was  anxious 
to  inform  Vronsky  of  Levin's  intentions  in  regard  to  Kitty. 
"No,  j'ou  are  unjust  towards  my  friend  Levin.  He  is  a 
very  nervous  man,  and  sometimes  he  can  be  disagreeable ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  can  be  very  charming.  He  is 
such  an  upright,  genuine  nature,  true  gold  !  Last  evening 
there  were  special  reasons  why  he  should  have  been  either 
very  happy  or  very  unhappy,"  continued  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch with  a  significant  smile,  and  entirely  forgetting  in  his 
present  sympathy  for  Vrousky,  his  sympathy  of  the  evening 
before  for  his  old  friend. 

Vronsky  stopped  short,  and  asked  point  blank,  — 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  proposed  yesterday  evening  to  jour 
belle-soeur?"  [sister-in-law]. 

"  Possibly,"  replied  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  :  "  this  disturbed 
me  last  evening.  Yes,  he  went  off  so  early,  and  was  in  such 
bad  spirits,  tliat  it  seemed  to  me  as  if —  He  has  been  in 
love  with  her  for  so  long,  and  I  am  very  angry  with  him." 

"Ah,  indeed!  I  thought  that  she  might,  however,  have 
aspirations  for  a  better  match,"  said  Vronsky,  turning  around, 
and  beginning  to  walk  up  and  down.  "However,  I  don't 
know  him,  but  this  promises  to  be  a  painful  situation.  That 
is  why  so  many  men  prefer  to  be  faithful  to  their  Claras  ;  at 
least  with  these  ladies,  there  is  no  suspicion  of  any  merce- 
nary considerations —  you  stand  on  your  own  merits.  But 
here  is  the  train." 

The  train  was  just  rumbling  into  the  station.  The  plat- 
form shook  ;  and  the  locomotive,  driving  before  it  the  steam 
condensed  by  the  cold  air,  became  visible.  Slowly  and  rhyth- 
mically the  connecting  rod  of  the  great  wheels  rose  and  fell : 
the  engineer,  well  muffled,  and  covered  with  frost,  leaped  to 
the  platform.  Next  the  tender  came  the  baggage-car,  still 
more  violently  shaking  the  platform  ;  a  dog  in  its  cage  was 
yelping  piteously  ;  finally  appeared  the  passenger-cars,  which 
jolted  together  as  the  train  came  to  a  stop. 

A  youthful-looking  and  somewhat  pretentiously  elegant 
conductor  slowly  stepped  down  from  the  car,  and  whistled, 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  69 

and  behind  him  came  the  more  impatient  of  the  travellers, — 
an  officer  of  the  guard,  with  martial  bearing  ;  a  small,  smiling 
merchant,  with  his  grip-sack ;  and  a  muzhik,  with  his  bundle 
slung  over  his  shoulder. 

Vronsky,  standing  near  Oblonsky,  watched  the  sight,  and 
completely  forgot  his  mother.  What  he  had  just  heard  about 
Kitty  caused  him  emotion  and  joy  :  he  involuntarily  straight- 
ened himself  ;  his  eyes  glistened  ;  he  felt  that  he  had  won  a 
victory. 

''The  Countess  Vronskai'a  is  in  that  coach,"  said  the 
youthful-looking  conductor,  approaching  him.  These  words 
awoke  him  from  his  revery,  and  brought  his  thoughts  back 
to  his  mother  and  their  approaching  interview.  Without 
ever  having  confessed  as  much  to  himself,  he  had  no  great 
respect  for  his  mother,  and  he  did  not  love  her.  But  his 
education  and  the  usages  of  the  society  in  which  he  lived  did 
not  allow  him  to  admit  that  there  could  be  in  his  relations 
with  her  the  slightest  want  of  consideration.  But  the  more 
he  exaggerated  the  bare  outside  forms,  the  more  he  felt  in 
his  heart  that  he  did  not  respect  or  love  her. 


XVIII. 

VRONSKY  followed  the  conductor ;  and  as  he  was  about  to 
enter  the  coach,  he  stood  aside  to  allow  a  lady  to  pass  him. 
With  the  instant  intuition  of  a  man  of  the  world  he  saw  that 
she  belonged  to  the  very  best  society.  Begging  her  pardon, 
he  was  about  to  enter  the  door,  but  involuntarily  he  turned 
to  give  another  look  at  the  lady,  not  on  account  of  her 
beauty,  her  grace,  or  her  elegance,  but  because  the  expres- 
sion of  her  lovely  face,  as  she  passed,  seemed  to  him  so  gentle 
and  sweet. 

She  also  turned  her  head  as  he  looked  back  at  her.  With 
her  gray  eyes  shining  through  the  long  lashes,  she  gave  him 
a  friendly,  benevolent  look  as  though  she  had  seen  in  him  a 
friend,  and  instantly  she  turned  to  seek  some  one  in  the 
throng.  Quick  as  this  glance  was,  Vronsky  had  time  to  per- 
ceive in  her  face  a  dignified  vivacity  which  was  visible  in  the 
half  smile  that  parted  her  rosy  lips,  and  in  the  brightness  of 
her  eyes.  Her  whole  person  was  radiant  with  the  overflow- 
ing spirits  of  youth,  which  she  tried  to  hide  ;  but  in  spite  of 
her,  the  veiled  lightning  of  her  eyes  gleamed  in  her  smile. 


70  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

Vronsky  went  into  the  coach.  His  mother,  an  old  lady 
with  little  curls  and  black  eyes,  received  him  with  a  slight 
srnile  oh  her  thin  lips.  She  got  up  from  her  chair,  handed 
her  bag  to  her  maid,  and  extended  her  little  thin  hand  to 
her  son,  who  bent  over  it ;  then  she  kissed  him  on  the  brow. 

"•  You  received  my  telegram?  You  are  well?  Thank  the 
Lord!" 

"Did  you  have  a  comfortable  journey?"  said  the  son, 
sitting  down  near  her,  and  at  the  same  time  listening  to  a 
woman's  voice  just  outside  the  door.  He  knew  that  it  was 
the  voice  of  the  lady  whom  he  had  met. 

"  However,  I  don't  agree  with  you,"  said  the  voice. 

"  It  is  a  St.  Petersburg  way  of  looking  at  it,  madame." 

"  Not  at  all,  but  simply  a  woman's,"  was  her  reply. 

"  Nu-s!  allow  me  to  kiss  your  hand." 

"  Good-by,  Ivan  Petrovitch.  Now  look  and  see  if  my 
brother  is  here,  and  send  him  to  me,"  said  the  lady  at  the 
very  door,  and  re-entering  the  coach. 

"Have  you  found  your  brother?  "  asked  Madame  Vron- 
skaia. 

Vronsky  now  knew  that  it  was  Madame  Kare"nina. 

"  Your  brother  is  here,"  he  said,  rising.  "  Excuse  me  :  I 
did  not  recognize  you  ;  but  our  acquaintance  was  so  short," 
he  added  with  a  bow,  "  that  you  were  not  exactly  sure  that 
you  remembered  me?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  she  said.  "  I  should  have  known  you  even  if 
your  mfftushJca  and  I  had  not  spoken  about  you  all  the  time 
that  we  were  on  the  way."  And  the  gayety  which  she  had 
endeavored  to  hide  lighted  her  face  with  a  smile.  "  But  my 
brother  does  not  come." 

"  Go  and  call  him,  Al6slia,"  said  the  old  countess. 

Vronsky  went  out  on  the  platform  and  shouted,  "  Oblon- 
sky  !  here !  " 

But  Madame  Kare'nina  did  not  wait  for  her  brother  ;  as  soon 
as  she  saw  him  she  ran  out  of  the  car,  went  straight  to  him, 
and  with  a  gesture  full  of  grace  and  energy,  threw  one  arm 
around  his  neck  and  kissed  him  affectionately. 

Vronsky  could  not  keep  his  eyes  from  her  face,  and  smiled 
without  knowing  why.  At  last  he  remembered  that  his 
mother  was  waiting,  and  he  went  back  into  the  car. 

"  Very  charming,  isn't  she?  "  said  the  countess,  referring 
to  Madame  Kare'nina.  "  Her  husband  put  her  in  my  charge, 
and  I  was  delighted.  We  talked  all  the  way.  Na  !  and  you  ? 


ANNA   KARENINA.  71 

They  say  vans  filez  le  parfait  amour.  Tant  mieux,  man 
clier,  tant  mieux."  ["  You  are  desperately  in  love.  So  much 
the  better,  my  dear,  so  much  the  better."] 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  allude  to,  maman,"  replied  the 
son  coldly.  "  Come,  maman.  let  us  go." 

At  this  moment  Madame  Karenina  came  back  to  take  leave 
of  the  countess. 

"  Nit  vot,  countess !  you  have  found  your  son,  and  1  my 
brother,"  she  said  gayly  ;  "  and  I  have  exhausted  my  whole 
fund  of  stories.  I  shouldn't  have  had  any  thing  more  to 
talk  about." 

"Nu!  not  so,"  said  the  countess,  taking  her  hand.  "I 
should  not  object  to  travel  round  the  world  with  you.  You 
are  one  of  those  agreeable  women  with  whom  either  speech 
or  silence  is  golden.  As  to  your  son,  I  beg  of  you,  don't 
think  about  him  :  we  must  have  separations  in  this  world." 

Madame  Karenina's  eyes  smiled  while  she  stood  and  lis- 
tened. 

"  Anna  Arkadyevna  has  a  little  boy  about  eight  j'ears 
old,"  said  the  countess  in  explanation  to  her  sou  :  "  she  has 
never  been  separated  from  him  before,  and  it  troubles  her." 

"  Yes,  we  have  talked  about  our  children  all  the  time,  — 
the  countess  of  her  son,  I  of  mine,"  said  Madame  Kare'nina 
turning  to  Vronsky  ;  and  again  her  face  broke  out  into  the 
caressing  smile  which  fascinated  him. 

"That  must  have  been  very  tiresome,"  tossing  lightly 
back  the  ball  in  this  little  battle  of  coquetry.  She  did  not 
continue  in  the  same  tone,  but  turned  to  the  old  countess  : 
"  Thank  you  very  much.  I  don't  see  where  the  day  has 
gone.  An  revoir,  countess." 

"  Good-  by,  my  dear,"  replied  the  countess.  "Let  me 
kiss  your  pretty  face,  and  tell  you  frankly,  as  it  is  permitted 
an  old  lady,  that  I  am  enraptured  with  you." 

Hackneyed  as  this  expression  was,  Madame  Karenina  ap- 
peared touched  by  it.  She  blushed,  bowed  slightly,  and 
bent  her  face  down  to  the  old  countess.  Then  she  gave 
her  hand  to  Vronsky  with  the  smile  that  seemed  to  belong 
as  much  to  her  eyes  as  to  her  lips.  He  pressed  her  little 
hand,  and,  as  though  it  were  something  wonderful,  was 
delighted  to  feel  its  answering  pressure  firm  and  energetic. 

Madame  Kare'nina  went  out  with  light  and  rapid  step. 

"  Very  charming,"  said  the  old  lady  again. 

Her  sou  was  of  the  same  opinion  ;   and  again  his  eyes 


72  ANNA   K  A 11^  NINA, 

followed  her  graceful  round  form  till  she  was  out  of  sight, 
and  a  smile  came  over  his  face.  Through  the  window  he  saw 
her  join  her  brother,  take  his  arm,  and  engage  him  in  lively 
conversation,  evidently  about  some  subject  in  which  Vron- 
sk y  had  110  connection,  and  the  young  man  was  vexed. 

"jVtt/  has  every  thing  gone  well,  maman?"  he  asked, 
turning  to  his  mother. 

"  Very  well,  indeed,  splendid.  Alexandre  has  been  charm- 
ing, and  Marie  has  been  very  good.  She  is  very  interesting." 
And  again  she  began  to  speak  of  what  lay  close  to  her 
heart,  — the  baptism  of  her  grandson,  the  reasons  that  brought 
her  to  Moscow,  and  the  special  favor  shown  her  eldest  son  by 
the  emperor. 

"And  there  is  Lavronty,"  said  Vronsky,  looking  out  the 
window.  ;i  Now  let  us  go,  if  you  are  ready." 

The  old  servant  came  to  tell  the  countess  that  every  thing 
was  ready,  and  she  arose  to  go. 

"  Come,  there  are  only  a  few  people  about  now,"  said 
Vronskj*. 

He  offered  his  mother  his  arm,  while  the  old  servant,  the 
maid,  and  a  porter  loaded  themselves  with  the  bags  and  other 
things.  But  just  as  they  stepped  down  from  the  car,  a 
number  of  men  with  frightened  faces  ran  by  them.  The 
station-master  followed  in  his  curiously  colored  furnzhka  (uni- 
form-cap). An  accident  had  taken  place,  and  the  people 
who  had  left  the  train  were  coming  back  again. 

"  What  is  it?  —  What  is  it?  —  Where?  —  He  was  thrown 
down  !  —  he  is  crushed  ! "  were  the  exclamations  made  by  the 
crowd. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  with  his  sister  on  his  arm  had  re- 
turned with  the  others,  and  were  standing  with  frightened 
faces  near  the  train  to  avoid  the  crush. 

The  ladies  went  back  into  the  car,  and  Vronsk}"  with 
Stepan  Arkadj'eviteh  went  with  the  crowd  to  see  what  had 
happened. 

A  train-hand,  cither  from  drunkenness,  or  because  his  ears 
were  too  closely  muffled  from  the  intense  cold  to  allow  him 
to  hear  the  noise  of  a  tram  that  was  backing  out,  had  been 
crushed. 

The  ladies  had  already  learned  about  the  accident  from 
the  lackej-  before  Vronsky  and  Oblonsky  came  back.  The 
latter  had  seen  the  disfigured  body.  Oblousky  was  deeply 
moved,  and  seemed  ready  to  shed  tears. 


ANNA  EAS&fTINA.  73 

"  Ach,  how  horrible  !  Ach,  Anna,  if  you  had  only  seen  it ! 
Ach,  ho\v  horrible  !  "  he  repeated. 

Vronsky  said  nothing ;  his  handsome  face  was  serious,  but 
absolutely  impassive. 

"  Ach,  if  you  had  only  seen  it,  countess  ! ' '  continued  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  —  "  and' his  wife  is  there.  It  was  terrible  to 
see  her.  She  threw  herself  on  his  body.  They  say  that  he 
was  the  only  support  of  a  large  family.  How  terrible  !  " 

"  Could  any  thing  be  done  for  her?  "  said  Madame  Kar6n- 
ina  in  a  whisper. 

Vronsky  looked  at  her,  and  saying,  "  I  will  be  right  back, 
maraan,"  he  left  the  car.  When  he  came  back  at  the  end 
of  a  few  minutes,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  talking  with  the 
countess  about  a  new  singer,  and  she  was  impatiently  watch- 
ing the  door  for  her  son. 

"  Now  let  us  go,"  said  Vronsky. 

They  all  went  out  together,  Vronsky  walking  ahead  with 
his  mother,  Madame  Kare'uina.  and  her  brother  side  by  side. 
At  the  door  the  station-master  overtook  them,  and  said  to 
Vronsky,  — 

"  You  have  given  my  assistant  two  hundred  rubles.  Will 
you  kindly  indicate  the  disposition  that  we  shall  make  of 
them?" 

*'  For  his  widow,"  said  Vronsky,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  have  asked  me." 

"  Did  you  give  that?  "  asked  Oblonsky  ;  and  pressing  his 
sister's  arm,  he  said,  "•  Very  kind,  very  kind.  Glorious 
fellow,  isn't  he?  I  wish  you  good-morning,  countess." 

He  delayed  with  his  sister  looking  for  her  maid.  When 
they  left  the  station,  the  Vronskys'  carriage  had  already  gone. 
People  on  all  sides  were  talking  about  the  accident. 

"  What  a  horrible  way  of  dying  !  "  said  a  gentleman,  pass- 
ing near  them.  'k  They  say  he  was  cut  in  two." 

"  It  seems  to  me,  on  the  contrary,"  replied  another,  "  that 
it  was  a  delightful  way  :  death  was  instantaneous." 

"Why  weren't  there  any  precautions  taken?"  demanded 
a  third. 

Madame  Kare'nina  stepped  into  the  carriage ;  and  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  noticed,  with  astonishment,  that  her  lips  trem- 
bled, and  that  she  could  hardly  keep  back  the  tears. 

••  What  is  the  matter,  Anna?"  he  asked,  when  they  had 
goue  a  little  distance. 

"  It  is  an  evil  omen,"  she  answered. 


74  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

"What  nonsense!"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "You 
are  here,  —  that  is  the  main  thing.  You  cannot  realize  how 
much  1  hope  from  your  visit." 

"  Have  you  known  Vrousky  long?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes.     You  know  we  hope  that  he  will  marry  Kitty." 

"  Really,"  said  Anna  gently.  "  Na  !  now  let  us  talk  about 
yourself,"  she  added,  shaking  her  head  as  though  she  wanted 
to  drive  away  something  that  troubled  and  pained  her.  "  Let 
us  speak  about  your  affairs.  I  received  your  letter,  and  here 
I  am." 

"  Yes:  all  my  hope  is  in  you,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  JVw/  tell  me  all." 

And  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  began  his  story.  When  they 
reached  the  house  he  helped  his  sister  from  the  carnage, 
shook  hands  with  her,  and  hastened  back  to  the  council- 
chamber. 

XIX. 

WHEN  Anna  entered,  Dolly  was  sitting  in  her  little  recep- 
tion-room, with  a  handsome  light-haired  lad,  the  image  of  his 
father,  who  was  learning  a  lesson  from  a  French  reading- 
book.  The  boy  was  reading  aloud,  and  at  the  same  time 
twisting  and  trying  to  pull  from  his  vest  a  button  that  was 
hanging  loose.  His  mother  had  many  times  reproved  him, 
but  the  plump  little  hand  kept  returning  to  the  button.  At 
last  she  had  to  take  the  button  off,  and  put  it  in  her  pocket. 

"  Keep  your  hands  still,  Grisha,"  said  she,  and  again  took 
up  the  bed-quilt  on  which  she  had  been  long  at  work,  and 
which  always  came  handy  at  trying  moments.  She  worked 
nervously,  jerking  her  fingers  and  counting  the  stitches. 
Though  she  had  said  to  her  husband  the  day  before,  that  his 
sister's  arrival  made  no  difference,  nevertheless,  she  was  ready 
to  receive  her,  and  was  waiting  for  her  impatiently. 

Dolly  was  absorbed  by  her  woes,  —  absolutely  swallowed 
up  by  them.  Nevertheless,  she  did  not  forget  that  her  sister- 
in-law,  Anna,  was  the  wife  of  one  of  the  important  person- 
ages of  St.  Petersburg,  —  a  Petersburg  r/rande  dame.  And, 
grateful  for  this  fact,  she  did  not  finish  her  remark  to  her 
husband  ;  that  is,  she  did  not  forget  that  her  sister  was  com- 
ing. "  After  all,  Anna  is  not  to  blame,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  1  know  nothing  about  her  that  is  not  good,  and  our  rela- 
tions have  always  been  good  and  friendly."  To  be  sure,  she 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  75 

could  not  do  away  -with  the  impression  left  by  her  visits  with 
the  Karenins,  at  Petersburg,  that  their  home  did  not  seem 
to  her  entirely  pleasant :  there  was  something  false  in  the 
relations  of  their  family  life.  "  But  why  should  I  not  re- 
ceive her?  Provided,  only,  that  she  does  not  take  it  into  her 
head  to  console  me,"  thought  Dolly.  "  I  know  what  these 
Christian  exhortations  and  consolations  mean :  I  have  gone 
over  them  a  thousand  times,  and  I  know  that  they  amount 
to  nothing  at  all." 

Dolly  had  spent  these  last  days  alone  with  her  children. 
She  did  not  care  to  speak  to  any  one  about  her  sorrow,  and 
under  the  load  of  it  she  felt  that  she  could  not  talk  about 
indifferent  matters.  She  knew  that  now  she  should  have  to 
open  her  heart  to  Anna,  and  now  the  thought  that  at  last  she 
could  tell  how  she  had  suffered,  delighted  her ;  and  now  she 
was  pained  because  she  must  speak  of  her  humiliations  before 
his  sister,  and  listen  to  her  reasons  and  advice.  She  had 
been  expecting  every  moment  to  see  her  sister-in-law  appear, 
and  had  been  watching  the  clock  ;  but,  as  often  happens  in 
such  ca.ses,  she  became  so  absorbed  in  her  thoughts  that  she 
did  not  hear  the  door-bell,  and  when  light  steps  and  the 
rustling  of  a  dress  caused  her  to  raise  her  head,  her  jaded 
face  expressed  not  pleasure,  but  surprise.  She  arose,  and 
met  her  guest. 

"  What,  have  you  come?  "  she  cried,  kissing  her. 

"  Dolly,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  !  " 

"  And  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  replied  Dolly,  with  a  faint 
smile,  and  trying  to  read,  by  the  expression  of  Anna's  face, 
how  much  she  knew.  "  She  knows  all,"  was  her  thought, 
as  she  saw  the  look  of  compassion  on  her  features.  "  Nu  ! 
let  us  go:  I  will  show  3*011  to  your  room,"  she  went  on  to 
say,  trying  to  postpone,  as  long  as  possible,  the  time  for  ex- 
planations. 

"Is  this  Grisha?  Heavens  !  How  he  has  grown  !  "  said 
Anna,  kissing  him.  Then,  not  taking  her  eyes  from  Dolly, 
she  added,  with  a  blush,  "  No,  please  don't  go  yet." 

She  took  off  herpZa/ofc  (silk  handkerchief),  and  shaking 
her  head  with  a  graceful  gesture,  freed  her  dark  curly  locks 
from  the  band  which  fastened  her  hat. 

"  How  brilliantly  happy  and  healthy  you  look,"  said  Dolly, 
almost  enviously. 

"I?"  exclaimed  Anna.  "Ah!  —  Bozhe  inoi!  [Good 
heavens !]  Tania!  is  that  you,  the  playmate  of  my  little 


76  ANNA   KAEtiNINA. 

Serozha?  "  said  she,  turning  to  the  little  girl  who  came  run- 
ning in.  She  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  kissed  her.  "  What 
a  charming  little  girl !  Charming  !  But  you  must  show  them 
all  to  me." 

She  recalled,  not  only  the  name  and  age  of  each,  but  their 
characteristics  and  their  little  ailments,  and  Dolly  could  not 
help  feeling  touched. 

"  Nu!  let  us  go  and  see  them:  but  Vasia  is  asleep;  it's 
too  bad." 

After  they  had  seen  the  children  they  came  back  to  the 
sitting-room  alone,  for  lunch,  which  was  waiting.  Anna 
began  to  eat  her  soup,  and  then  pushing  it  away,  said,  — 

"  Dolly,  he  has  told  me." 

Dolly  looked  at  Anna  coldly.  She  expected  some  expres- 
sion of  hypocritical  sympathy,  but  Anna  said  nothing  of  the 
kind. 

"  Dolly,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  do  not  intend  to  speak 
to  you  in  defence  of  him,  nor  to  console  you  :  it  is  impossi- 
ble. But,  dushenka  [dear  heart],  I  am  sorry,  sorry  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart !  " 

Under  her  long  lashes  her  brilliant  eyes  suddenly  filled 
with  tears.  She  drew  closer,  and  with  her  energetic  little 
hand  seized  the  hand  of  her  sister-in-law.  Dolly  did  not 
repulse  her,  though  she  looked  cold  and  haughty. 

"It  is  impossible  to  console  me.  After  what  has  hap- 
pened, all  is  over  for  me,  all  is  lost." 

As  she  said  these  words,  her  face  suddenly  softened  a 
little.  Anna  lifted  to  her  lips  the  thin,  dry  hand  that  she 
held,  and  kissed  it. 

"  But,  Dolly,  what  is  to  be  done?  what  is  to  be  done? 
How  can  we  escape  from  this  frightful  position?  We  must 
think  about  it." 

"All  is  over!  Nothing  can  be  done!"  Dolly  replied. 
"And,  what  is  worse  than  all,  you  must  understand  it,  is 
that  I  cannot  leave  him  !  the  children  !  I  am  chained  to  him  ! 
and  I  cannot  live  with  him  !  It  is  torture  to  see  him  !  " 

"  Dolly,  galubchik  [darling],  he  has  told  me  ;  but  I  should 
like  to  hear  your  side  of  the  story.  Tell  me  all." 

Dolly  looked  at  her  with  a  questioning  expression.  She 
could  read  sympathy  and  the  sincerest  affection  in  Anna's 
face. 

"  I  should  like  to,"  she  suddenly  said.  "  But  I  shall  tell 
you  every  thing  from  the  very  beginning.  You  know  how  I 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  77 

was  married.  With  the  education  that  maman  gave  me, 
I  was  not  only  innocent,  I  was  a  goose.  I  did  not  know  any 
thing.  I  know  they  said  husbands  told  their  wives  all  about 
their  past  lives;  but  Stiva,"  —  she  corrected  herself, — . 
"Stepan  Arkadyevitch  never  told  me  any  thing.  You  would 
not  believe  it,  but,  up  to  the  present  time,  I  supposed  that  I 
was  the  only  woman  with  whom  he  was  acquainted.  Thus 
I  lived  with  him  eight  years.  You  see,  I  not  only  never  sus- 
pected him  of  being  unfaithful  to  me,  but  I  believed  such  a 
thing  to  be  impossible.  And  with  such  ideas,  imagine  how 
I  suffered  when  I  suddenly  learned  all  this  horror  —  all  this 
dastardliness.  Understand  me.  To  believe  absolutely  in 
his  honor,"  continued  Doll}',  struggling  to  keep  back  her 
sobs,  "  and  suddenly  to  find  a  letter,  —  a  letter  from  him  to 
his  mistress,  to  the  governess  of  my  children.  No :  this  is 
too  cruel!"  She  took  her  handkerchief ,  and  hid  her  face. 
"  I  might  have  been  able  to  admit  a  moment  of  temptation," 
she  continued,  after  a  moment's  pause  ;  "  but  this  hypocrisy, 
this  continual  attempt  to  deceive  me — •  And  for  whom? 
It  is  frightful :  you  cannot  comprehend." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  comprehend  :  1  comprehend,  my  poor  Dolly," 
said  Anna,  squeezing  her  hand. 

"  And  do  you  imagine  that  he  appreciates  all  the  horror 
of  my  situation?"  continued  Dolly.  "Certainly  not:  he  is 
happy  and  contented." 

"Oh,  no  !  "  interrupted  Anna  warmly.  "  He  is  thoroughly 
repentant :  he  is  filled  with  remorse  "  — 

"  Is  he  capable  of  remorse?  "  demanded  Dolly,  scrutinizing 
her  sister-in-law's  face. 

"Yes:  I  know  him.  I  could  not  look  at  him  without 
feeling  sorry  for  him.  We  both  of  us  know  him.  He  is 
kind  ;  but  he  is  proud,  and  now  how  humiliated !  What 
touched  me  most  [Anna  knew  well  enough  that  this  would 
touch  Doll}*  also]  are  the  two  things  that  pained  him  :  In 
the  first  place,  the  children  ;  and  secondly,  because,  lov- 
ing you, — yes.  yes,  loving  you  more  than  any  one  else  in 
the  world,"  she  added  vehemently,  to  prevent  Dolly  from 
interrupting  her,  —  "he  has  wounded  you  grievously,  has 
almost  killed  you.  '  No,  no,  she  will  never  forgive  me!  '  he 
repeats  all  the  time." 

Dolly  looked  straight  beyond  her  sister,  but  listened  to 
what  she  was  saying. 

"  Yes,  I  comprehend  what  he  suffers.     The  guilty  suffers 


78  ANNA  KAKfiNINA. 

more  than  the  innocent,  if  he  knows  that  he  is  the  cause  of 
all  the  trouble.  But  how  can  I  forgive  him?  How  can  1  be 
his  wife  after —  To  live  with  him  henceforth  would  be  all 
the  greater  torment,  because  I  still  love  what  I  used  to  love 
in  him  " —  And  the  sobs  prevented  her  from  speaking. 

But  after  she  had  become  a  little  calmer,  the  subject  which 
hurt  her  most  cruelly  involuntarily  recurred  to  her  thoughts. 

"She  is  young,  you  see,  she  is  pretty,"  she  went  on  to 
say.  "  To  whom  have  I  sacrificed  my  youthfulness,  my 
beauty  ?  For  him  and  his  children  !  I  have  served  my  day, 
I  have  given  him  the  best  that  I  had  ;  and  now,  naturally, 
some  one  younger  and  fresher  than  I  am  is  more  pleasing  to 
him.  They  have,  certainly,  discussed  me  between  them, — 
or,  worse,  have  insulted  me  with  their  silence." 

And  again  her  eyes  expressed  her  jealous}'. 

"  And  after  this  will  he  tell  me?  .  .  .  and  could  I  believe 
it?  No,  never!  it  is  all  over,  all  that  gave  me  recompense 
for  my  sufferings,  for  my  sorrows.  .  .  .  Would  you  believe 
it?  just  now  I  was  teaching  Grisha.  It  used  to  be  a  pleas- 
ure to  me ;  now  it  is  a  torment.  Why  should  I  take  the 
trouble?  Why  have  I  children ?  It  is  terrible,  because  my 
whole  soul  is  in  revolt ;  instead  of  love,  tenderness,  I  am  filled 
with  nothing  but  hate,  yes,  hate  !  I  could  kill  him  and  "  — 

"  Diishenka  I  Dolly!  I  understand  you  ;  but  don't  tor- 
ment yourself  so !  You  are  too  excited,  too  angry  to  see 
things  in  their  right  light."  Dolly  grew  calmer,  and  for  a 
few  moments  not  a  word  was  said. 

"  What  is  to  be  done,  Anna?  Consider  and  help  me.  I 
have  thought  of  every  thing,  but  I  cannot  see  any  help." 

Anna  herself  did  not  see  any,  but  her  heart  responded  to 
every  word,  to  every  sorrowful  gesture  of  her  sister-in-law. 

"  I  will  tell  you  one  thing,"  said  she  at  last.  "  I  am  his 
sister,  and  I  know  his  character,  his  peculiarity,  of  forgetting 
every  thing —  [she  touched  her  forehead]  —  this  peculiarity 
of  his  which  is  so  conducive  to  sudden  temptation,  but  also 
to  repentance.  At  the  present  moment,  he  does  not  under- 
stand how  it  was  possible  for  him  to  have  done  what  he 
did." 

"  Not  so!  He  does  understand  and  he  did  understand," 
interrupted  Dolly.  "But  I?  —  you  forget  me:  does  that 
make  the  pain  less  for  me?  " 

"Wait!  when  he  made  his  confession  to  me,  I  acknowl- 
edge that  I  did  not  appreciate  the  whole  extent  of  your  suf- 


ANNA  KAR£NINA*  79 

fering.  I  only  saw  one  thing, — the  disruption  of  the  family. 
I  was  grieved ;  but  after  talking  with  you,  I,  as  a  woman, 
look  upon  it  in  a  very  different  light.  I  see  your  grief,  and 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  sorry  I  am.  But,  Dolly,  diishenka, 
while  I  appreciate  your  misfortune  there  is  one  thing  which  I 
do  not  know  :  I  do  not  know  —  I  do  not  know  to  what  degree 
you  still  love  him.  You  alone  can  tell  whether  you  love  him 
enough  to  forgive  him.  If  3*011  do,  then  forgive  him." 

"  No,"  began  Dolly  ;  but  Anna  interrupted  her  again. 

"I  know  the  world  better  than  you  do,"  she  said.  "I 
know  how  such  men  as  Stiva  look  on  these  things.  You  say 
that  they  have  discussed  you  between  them.  Don't  you 
believe  it.  These  men  can  be  unfaithful  to  their  marriage 
vows,  but  their  homes  and  their  wives  remain  no  less  sacred 
in  their  eyes.  They  draw  between  these  women  whom  at 
heart  they  despise  and  their  families,  a  line  of  demarcation, 
which  is  never  crossed.  I  cannot  understand  how  it  can  be, 
but  so  it  is." 

"  Yes,  but  he  has  kissed  her  "  — 

"Listen,  Dolly,  dushenka!  I  saw  Stiva  when  he  was  in 
love  with  thee.  I  remember  the  time  when  he  used  to  come 
to  me  and  talk  about  thee  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  I  know  to 
what  a  poetic  height  he  raised  thee,  and  1  know  that  the 
longer  he  lived  with  thee  the  more  he  admired  thee.  We 
always  have  smiled  at  his  habit  of  saying  at  every  opportu- 
nity, '  Doll;/  is  an  extraordinary  woman.'  You  have  been, 
and  you  always  will  be,  an  object  of  adoration  in  his  eyes, 
and  this  passion  is  not  a  defection  of  his  heart  "  — 

"  But  supposing  it  should  begin  again?  " 

"  It  is  impossible,  as  I  think  "  — 

"  Yes,  but  would  you  have  forgiven  him?  " 

"  I  don't  know :  I  can't  say.  Yes,  I  could,"  said  Anna 
after  a  moment's  thought  and  weighing  the  gravity  of  the 
situation.  "  I  could,  I  could,  I  could  !  Yes,  I  could  forgive 
him,  but  I  should  not  be  the  same  ;  but  I  should  forgive  him, 
and  I  should  forgive  him  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  that  the 
past  was  forgotten,  absolutely  forgotten." 

"JVz«/  of  course,"  interrupted  Dolly  impetuously,  as 
though  Anna  hud  spoken  her  own  thought  —  "otherwise  it 
would  not  be  forgiveness.  If  you  forgive,  it  must  be  ab- 
solutely, absolutely.  — JNu  !  let  me  show  you  to  your  room," 
said  she,  rising,  and  throwing  her  arm  around  her  sister-in- 
law. 


80  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

"  My  dear,  how  glad  I  am  that  you  came.  My  heart  is 
already  lighter,  much  lighter." 

XX. 

ANNA  spent  the  whole  day  at  home,  that  is  to  say,  with  the 
Oblonskys,  and  excused  herself  to  all  visitors,  who,  having 
learned  of  her  arrival,  came  to  see  her.  The  whole  morning 
was  given  to  Dolly  and  the  children.  She  sent  word  to  her 
brother  that  he  must  dine  at  home.  "  Come,  God  is  merci- 
ful," was  her  message. 

Oblonsky  accordingly  dined  at  home.  The  conversation 
was  general ;  and  his  wife,  when  she  spoke  to  him,  called  him 
tui  (thou),  which  had  not  been  the  case  before.  The  rela- 
tions between  husband  and  wife  remained  cool,  but  nothing 
more  was  said  about  a  separation,  and  Stepau  Arkadyevitch 
saw  the  possibility  of  a  reconciliation. 

Kitty  came  in  soon  after  dinner.  Her  acquaintance  with 
Anna  Arkady evna  was  very  slight,  and  she  was  not  without 
solicitude  as  to  the  welcome  which  she  would  receive  from 
this  great  Petersburg  lady  whose  praise  was  in  everybody's 
mouth.  But  she  soon  felt  that  she  had  made  a  pleasing 
impression  on  Anna  Arkadyevna,  who  was  impressed  with 
her  youth  and  beauty,  and  she,  on  her  part,  immediately  fell 
under  the  charm  of  Anna's  gracious  manner,  as  young  girls 
do  when  brought  into  relations  with  women  older  than  them- 
selves. Besides,  there  was  nothing  about  Anna  which  sug- 
gested a  society  woman  or  the  mother  of  an  eight-year-old 
son ;  but  to  see  her  graceful  form,  her  fresh  and  animated 
face,  one  would  have  guessed  that  she  was  a  young  lady  of 
twenty,  had  not  a  serious  and  sometimes  almost  melancholy 
expression,  which  struck  and  attracted  Kitty,  come  into  her 
eyes. 

Kitty  felt  that  she  was  perfectly  natural  and'  sincere,  but 
she  did  not  deny  that  there  was  something  about  her  that 
suggested  a  whole  world  of  complicated  and  poetic  interest 
far  beyond  her  comprehension. 

After  dinner  Dolly  went  back  to  her  room,  and  Anna  arose 
and  went  eagerly  to  her  "brother  who  was  smoking  a  cigar. 

"  Stiva,"  said  she,  glancing  towards  the  door,  and  mak- 
ing the  sign  of  the  cross,  "  go,  and  God  help  you." 

He  understood  her,  and,  throwing  away  his  cigar,  dis- 
appeared behind  the  door. 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  81 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone,  Anna  sat  down  upon  a  sofa  sur- 
rounded by  the  children. 

Either  because  they  saw  that  their  mamma  loved  this  new 
aunt,  or  because  they  themselves  felt  a  drawing  to  her,  the 
two  eldest,  and  therefore  the  younger,  in  the  imitative  manner 
of  children,  had  taken  possession  of  her  even  before  dinner, 
and  now  they  were  enjoying  the  rivalry  of  getting  next  to 
her,  of  holding  her  hand,  of  kissing  her,  of  playing  with  her 
rings,  or  of  hanging  to  her  dress. 

"  Nn!  Nu!  let  us  sit  as  we  were  before,"  said  Anna,  tak- 
ing her  place. 

And  Grisha,  proud  and  delighted,  thrust  his  head  under 
his  aunt's  hand,  and  laid  it  on  her  knees. 

"  And  when  is  the  ball?  "  she  asked  of  Kitty. 

"To-night!  it  will  be  a  lovely  ball,  —  one  of  those  balls 
where  one  always  has  a  good  time." 

"  Then  there  are  places  where  one  alwa3's  has  a  good 
time?  "  asked  Anna  in  a  tone  of  gentle  irony. 

ki  Strange,  but  it  is  so.  We  always  enjoy  ourselves  at  the 
Bobrishchefs  and  at  the  Nikitins,  but  at  the  Mezhkofs  it  is 
always  dull.  Haven't  you  ever  noticed  that?  " 

"  No,  dusha  [my  soul],  no  ball  could  be  amusing  to  me ;  " 
and  again  Kitty  saw  in  her  eyes  that  unknown  world,  which 
had  not  yet  been  revealed  to  her.  "  For  me  they  are  all 
more  or  less  tiresome." 

"  How  could  you  find  a  ball  tiresome?  " 

"  And  why  should  not  /  find  a  ball  tiresome?  " 

Kitty  perceived  that  Anna  foresaw  what  her  answer  would 
be,  — 

' '  Because  }"ou  are  always  the  loveliest  of  all !  " 

Anna  blushed  easily  :  she  blushed  now,  and  said,  — 

"  In  the  first  place,  that  is  not  true  ;  and  in  the  second,  if 
it  were,  it  would  not  make  any  difference." 

"  Won't  you  go  to  this  ball?  "  asked  Kitty. 

"I  think  that  I  would  rather  not  go.  Here!  take  this," 
said  she  to  Tania,  who  was  amusing  herself  by  drawing  off 
her  rings  from  her  delicate  white  fingers. 

"  I  should  be  delighted  if  you  would  go :  I  should  like  to 
see  you  at  a  ball." 

"  Well,  if  I  have  to  go,  I  shall  console  myself  with  the 
thought  that  I  am  making  you  happy.  —  Grisha,  don't  pull 
my  hair  down!  it  is  disorderly  enough  now,"  said  she,  ad- 
justing the  net  with  which  the  lad  was  playing. 


82  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

"  I  should  imagine  you  at  a  ball  dressed  in  violet." 

"  Why  in  violet?"  asked  Anna,  smiling.  "  Nu!  children, 
run  away,  run  away.  Don't  you  hear?  Miss  Hull  is  calling 
you  to  tea,"  said  she,  sending  the  children  out  to  the  dining- 
room. 

"I  know  why  you  want  me  to  go  to  the  ball.  You  ex- 
pect something  wonderful  to  happen  at  this  ball,  and  you 
are  anxious  for  us  all  to  be  there.*' 

"  How  did  you  know?     You  are  right !  " 

"  Oh,  what  a  lovely  age  is  ours  !  "  continued  Anna.  "  I 
remember  well  that  purple  haze  which  resembles  that  which 
you  see  hanging  over  the  mountains  in  Switzerland.  This 
haze  covers  every  thing  in  that  delicious  time  when  child- 
hood ends,  and  through  it  every  thing  looks  beautiful  and 
joyous.  And  then,  by  and  by  appears  a  footpath  which 
leads  up  to  those  heights,  where  every  thing  is  bright  and 
beautiful.  —  Who  has  not  passed  through  it?  " 

Kitty  listened  and  smiled.  "  How  did  she  pass  through 
it?  How  I  should  like  to  know  the  whole  romance  of  her 
life  !  "  thought  Kitty,  remembering  the  uupoetic  appearance 
of  her  husband,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch. 

"  I  know  a  thing  or  two,"  continued  Anna.  "  Stiva  told 
me,  and  I  congratulate  you :  lie  pleased  me  very  much.  I 
met  Vronsky  this  morning,  at  the  station." 

"Ach!  was  he  there?"  asked  Kitty,  blushing.  "What 
did  Stiva  tell  you  ? ' ' 

"  Stiva  told  me  the  whole  story ;  and  I  should  be  de- 
lighted!  I  came  from  Petersburg  with  Vronsky 's  mother," 
she  continued;  "and  his  mother  never  ceased  to  speak  of 
him.  He  is  her  favorite.  I  know  how  partial  mothers  are, 
but"  — 

"  What  did  his  mother  tell  you?  " 

"  Ach!  many  things  ;  and  I  know  that  he  is  her  favorite. 
But  still,  he  has  a  chivalrous  nature. —  Nu!  for  example, 
she  told  me  how  he  wanted  to  give  up  his  whole  fortune  to 
his  brother  ;  how  he  did  something  still  more  wonderful  when 
he  was  a  boy  —  saved  a  woman  from  drowning.  In  a  word, 
he  is  a  hero !  "  said  Anna,  smiling,  and  remembering  the  two 
hundred  rubles  which  he  had  given  at  the  station. 

But  she  did  not  tell  about  the  two  hundred  rubles.  The 
memory  of  it  was  not  entirely  satisfactory,  for  she  felt  that 
his  action  concerned  herself  too  closely. 

"The  countess  urged  me  to  come  to  see  her,"  continued 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  83 

Anna,  "  and  I  should  be  very  happy  to  meet  her  again  and 
I  will  go  to-morrow.  —  Thank  the  Lord,  Stiva  remains  a  long 
time  with  Dolly  in  the  library,"  she  added,  changing  the 
subject,  and,  as  Kitty  perceived,  looking  a  little  vexed. 

"  I'll  be  the  first.  No,  I,"  cried  the  children,  who  had 
just  finished  their  supper,  and  came  running  to  their  aunt 
Anna. 

"  All  together,"  she  said,  laughing,  and  running  to  meet 
them.  She  seized  them  and  piled  them  in  a  heap,  struggling 
and  screaming  with  delight. 


XXI. 

AT  tea-time  Dolly  came  out  of  her  room.  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch  was  not  with  her :  he  had  left  his  wife's  chamber  by 
the  rear  door. 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  be  cold  up-stairs,"  said  Dolly,  ad- 
dressing Anna.  "  I  should  like  to  have  you  come  down  and 
be  near  me." 

"Ach!  don't  worry  about  me,  I  beg  of  you,"  repiied 
Anna,  trying  to  divine  by  Dolly's  face  if  there  had  been  a 
reconciliation. 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  too  light  for  you  here,"  said  her 
sister-in-law. 

"  I  assure  you,  I  sleep  anywhere  and  everywhere  as  sound 
as  a  woodchuck." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  coming  in, 
and  addressing  his  wife. 

By  the  tone  of  his  voice,  both  Kitty  and  Anna  knew  that 
the  reconciliation  had  taken  place. 

"  I  wanted  to  install  Anna  here,  but  we  should  have  to 
put  up  some  curtains.  No  one  knows  how  to  do  it,  and  so  I 
must,"  said  Dolly,  in  reply  to  her  husband's  question. 

"God  knows  if  they  have  made  up,"  thought  Anna,  as 
she  noticed  Dolly's  cold  and  even  tone. 

"  Ach!  don't,  Dolh',  don't  make  mountains  out  of  mole- 
hills !  Nu!  if  you  like,  I  will  fix  ever3"  thing  "  — 

"  Yes,"  thought  Anna,  "  it  must  have  been  settled." 

"  I  know  how  you  fix  things,"  said  Dolly,  with  a  mocking 
smile  :  "  you  give  Matve  an  order  which  he  does  not  under- 
stand, and  then  you  go  out,  and  he  gets  every  thing  into  a 
tangle." 


84  ANNA   KAIltfNINA, 

"  Complete,  complete  reconciliation,  complete,"  thought 
Anna.  "  Thank  God  !  "  and,  rejoicing  that  she  had  accom- 
plished her  purpose,  she  went  up  to  Dolly  and  kissed  her. 

"Not  by  any  means.  Why  have  you  such  scorn  for 
Matve  and  me?"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to  his  wife 
with  an  almost  imperceptible  smile. 

Throughout  the  evening  Dolly,  as  usual,  was  lightly  ironi- 
cal towards  her  husband,  and  he  was  happy  and  gay,  but 
within  bounds,  and  as  though  he  wanted  to  make  it  evident 
that  even  if  he  had  obtained  pardon  he  had  not  forgotten 
his  sins. 

About  half-past  nine  a  particularly  animated  and  pleasant 
conversation  was  going  on  at  the  tea-table,  when  an  inci- 
dent occurred  that,  apparently  of  the  slightest  importance, 
seemed  to  each  member  of  the  family  to  be  very  strange. 

They  were  talking  about  some  one  of  their  acquaintances 
in  St.  Petersburg,  when  Anna  suddenly  arose. 

"I  have  her  picture  in  my  album,"  she  said;  "and  at 
the  same  time  I  will  show  you  my  little  Serozha,"  she  added, 
with  a  smile  of  maternal  pride. 

It  was  usually  about  ten  o'clock  when  she  bade  her  son 
good-night.  Oftentimes  she  herself  put  him  to  bed  be  fore- 
she  went  out  to  parties,  and  now  she  felt  a  sensation  of 
sadness  to  be  so  far  from  him.  No  matter  what  she  was 
speaking  about,  her  thoughts  reverted  alwaj'S  to  her  little 
curly-haired  Serozha,  and  the  desire  seized  her  to  go  and 
look  at  his  picture,  and  to  talk  about  him.  She  immediately 
left  the  room  with  her  light,  decided  step.  The  stairs  to  her 
room  started  from  the  landing-place  in  the  large  staircase, 
which  led  from  the  heated  hall.  Just  as  she  went  after  the 
album  the  front  door-bell  rang. 

"  Who  can  that  be?  "  said  Dolly. 

"  It  is  too  early  to  come  after  me,  and  too  late  for  a  call," 
remarked  Kitty. 

"Doubtless  somebody  with  papers  forme,"  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch. 

As  Anna  came  down  towards  the  staircase  she  saw  the 
servant  going  to  announce  a  visitor,  while  the  latter  stood  in 
the  light  of  the  hall-lamp,  and  was  waiting.  Anna  leaned 
over  the  railing,  and  saw  that  it  was  Vronsky.  A  strange 
sensation  of  joy,  mixed  with  terror,  suddenly  seized  her 
heart.  He  was  standing  with  his  coat  on,  and  was  searching 
his  pockets  for  something.  At  the  moment  that  Anna 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  85 

reached  the  central  staircase,  he  lifted  his  eyes,  perceived 
her,  and  his  face  assumed  an  expression  of  humility  and 
confusion.  She  bowed  her  head  slightly  in  salutation  ;  and 
as  she  descended,  she  heard  Stepan  Arkadyevitch' s  loud 
voice  calling  him  to  come  in,  and  then  Vronsky's  low,  soft, 
and  tranquil  voice  excusing  himself. 

When  Anna  reached  the  room  with  the  album,  he  had 
gone,  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  telling  how  he  came  to 
see  about  a  dinner  which  they  were  going  to  give  the  next 
day  in  honor  of  some  celebrity  who  was  in  town. 

"And  nothing  would  induce  him  to  come  in.  What  a 
queer  fellow  !  "  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

Kitty  blushed.  She  thought  that  she  alone  understood 
what  he  had  come  for,  and  why  he  would  not  come  in. 
"  He  must  have  been  at  our  house,"  she  thought,  "  and  not 
finding  any  one,  have  supposed  that  I  was  here  ;  but  he  did 
not  come  in  because  it  was  late  and  Anna  here." 

Everybody  exchanged  glances,  but  nothing  was  said,  and 
they  began  to  examine  Anna's  album. 

There  was  nothing  extraordinary  in  a  man  coming  about 
half-past  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  to  ask  information  of  a 
friend,  and  not  coming  in  ;  yet  to  everybody  it  seemed 
strange,  and  it  seemed  more  strange  and  unpleasant  to  Anna 
than  to  anybody  else. 

XXII. 

THE  ball  was  just  beginning  when  Kitty  and  her  mother 
mounted  the  grand  staircase  brilliantly  lighted  and  adorned 
with  flowers,  on  which  stood  powdered  lackeys  in  red  livery. 
From  the  ante-room,  as  they  were  giving  the  last  touches  to 
their  toilets  before  a  mirror,  they  could  hear  a  noise  like  the 
humming  of  a  bee-hive  and  the  scraping  of  violins  as  the 
orchestra  was  tuning  up  for  the  first  waltz. 

A  little  old  man  who  was  laboriously  arranging  his  thin 
white  locks  at  another  mirror,  and  who  exhaled  a  penetrating 
odor  of  perfumes,  looked  at  Kitty  with  admiration.  He 
had  climbed  the  staircase  with  them,  and  allowed  them  to 
pass  before  him.  A  beardless  young  man,  such  as  the  old 
Prince  Shcherbatsky  would  have  reckoned  among  the  sim- 
pletons, wearing  a  very  low-cut  vest  and  a  white  necktie 
which  he  adjusted  as  he  walked,  bowed  to  them,  and  then 
came  to  ask  Kitty  for  a  quadrille.  The  first  dance  was 


86  ANNA  KAIifiNlNA. 

already  promised  to  Vronsky,  and  so  she  was  obliged  to 
content  the  young  man  with  the  second.  An  officer  button- 
ing his  gloves  was  standing  near  the  door  of  the  ball-room  : 
he  cast  a  glance  of  admiration  at  Kitty,  and  caressed  his 
mustache. 

Kitty  had  been  greatly  exercised  by  her  toilet,  her  dress, 
and  all  the  preparations  for  this  ball ;  but  no  one  would  have 
imagined  such  a  thing  to  see  her  enter  the  ball-room  in  her 
complicated  robe  of  tulle  with  its  rose-colored  overdress. 
She  wore  her  ruches  and  her  laces  so  easily  and  naturally 
that  one  might  almost  believe  that  she  had  been  born  in  this 
lace-trimmed  ball-dress,  and  with  a  rose  placed  on  the 
top  of  her  graceful  head.  Kitty  was  looking  her  prettiest. 
Her  dress  was  not  too  tight ;  her  rosettes  were  just  as  she 
liked  to  have  them,  and  did  not  pull  off;  her  rose-col- 
ored slippers  with  their  high  heels  did  not  pinch  her,  but 
were  agreeable  to  her  feet.  All  the  buttons  on  her  long 
gloves  which  enveloped  and  enhanced  the  beauty  of  her 
hands  fastened  easily,  and  did  not  tear.  The  black  velvet 
ribbon,  attached  to  a  medallion,  was  thrown  daintily  about 
her  neck.  This  ribbon  was  charming ;  and  at  home,  as 
she  saw  it  in  her  mirror  adorning  her  neck,  Kitty  felt  that 
this  ribbon  spoke.  Every  thing  else  might  be  dubious,  but 
this  ribbon  was  charming.  Kitty  smiled,  even  there  at  the 
ball,  as  she  saw  it  in  the  mirror.  As  she  saw  her  shoulders 
and  her  arms,  Kitty  felt  a  sensation  of  marble  coolness 
which  pleased  her.  Her  eyes  shone  and  her  rosy  lips  could 
not  refrain  from  smiling  with  the  consciousness  of  how 
charming  she  was. 

She  had  scarcely  entered  the  ball-room  and  joined  a  group 
of  ladies  covered  with  tulle,  ribbons,  lace,  and  flowers,  who 
were  waiting  for  partners.  —  Kitty  did  not  belong  to  the 
number,  — when  she  was  invited  to  waltz  with  the  best  dancer, 
the  principal  cavalier  in  the  whole  hierarchy  of  the  ball-room, 
the  celebrated  leader  of  the  mazurka,  the  master  of  ceremo- 
nies, the  handsome,  elegant  Yegorushka  Korsunsky,  a  mar- 
ried man.  He  had  just  left  the  Countess  Bonina,  with  whom 
he  opened  the  ball,  and  as  soon  as  he  perceived  Kitty,  he  made 
his  way  to  her  in  that  easy  manner  peculiar  to  leaders  of  the 
mazurka,  and  without  even  asking  her  permission  put  his  arm 
around  the  young  girl's  slender  waist.  She  looked  for  some 
one  to  whom  to  confide  her  fan  ;  and  the  mistress  of  the 
mansion,  smiling  upon  her,  took  charge  of  it. 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  87 

"  How  good  of  you  to  come  early,"  said  Korsunsky.  "  I 
don't  like  the  fashion  of  being  late." 

Kitty  placed  her  left  hand  on  her  partner's  shoulder,  and 
her  little  feet,  shod  in  rose-colored  bashmaks,  glided  lightly 
and  rhythmically  over  the  polished  floor. 

"It  is  restful  to  dance  with  you,"  said  he  as  he  fell  into 
the  slow  measures  of  the  waltz  :  "  charming  !  such  lightness  ! 
such  precision ! "  This  is  what  he  said  to  almost  all  his 
dancing  acquaintances. 

Kitty  smiled  at  this  eulogium,  and  continued  to  study  the 
ball-room  across  her  partner's  shoulder.  This  was  not  her 
first  appearance  in  society,  and  she  did  not  confound  all 
faces  in  one  magic  sensation,  nor  was  she  so  surfeited  with 
balls  as  to  know  every  one  present,  and  be  tired  of  seeing 
them.  She  noticed  a  group  that  had  gathered  in  the  left- 
hand  corner  of  the  ball-room,  composed  of  the  very  flowers 
of  society.  There  was  Korsunsky's  wife,  Lidi,  a  beauty  in 
outrageously  low-cut  corsage  ;  there  was  the  mistress  of  the 
mansion  ;  there  was  Krivin  with  shiny  bald  head,  who  was 
always  to  be  seen  where  the  cream  of  society  was  gathered. 
There  also  were  gathered  the  young  men  looking  on,  and  not 
venturing  upon  the  floor.  Her  eyes  fell  upon  Stiva.  and  then 
she  saw  Anna's  elegant  figure  dressed  in  black  velvet.  And 
he  was  there.  Kitty  had  not  seen  him  since  the  evening 
when  she  refused  Levin.  Kitty  discovered  him  from  afar, 
and  saw  that  he  was  looking  at  her. 

"  Shall  we  have  one  more  turn?  You  are  not  fatigued?  " 
asked  Korsunsky,  slightly  out  of  breath. 

"  lSro,  thank  you." 

"  "Where  shall  I  leave  you?  " 

"  I  think  Madame  Kardnina  is  here  ;  —  take  me  to  her." 

"  Anywhere  that  you  please." 

And  Korsunsky,  still  waltzing  with  Kitty  but  with  a  slower 
step,  made  his  way  toward  the  group  on  the  left,  saying  as 
he  went,  u  Pardon,  mesdames  ;  pardon,  pardon,  mesdames ;  " 
and  steering  skilfully  through  the  sea  of  laces,  tulle,  and  rib- 
bons, placed  her  in  a  chair  after  a  final  turn,  which  gave  a 
glimpse  of  dainty  blue  stockings,  and  threw  her  train  over 
Krivin's  knees,  half  burying  him  under  a  cloud  of  tulle. 

Korsunsky  bowed,  then  straightened  himself  up,  and  offered 
Kitty  his  arm  to  conduct  her  to  Anna  Arkadyevna.  Kitty, 
blushing  a  little,  freed  Krivin  from  the  folds  of  her  train  1 
and,  just  a  trifle  dizzy,  went  iu  search  of  Madame  Kareniua. 


88  ANNA  KAJttiNINA. 

Anna  was  not  dressed  in  violet,  as  Kitty  had  hoped,  but  in  a 
low-cut  black  velvet  gown,  which  showed  her  ivory  shoulders, 
her  beautiful  round  arms,  and  her  dainty  wrists.  Her  robe 
was  adorned  with  Venetian  guipure  ;  on  her  head,  gracefully 
set  on  her  dark  locks,  was  a  wreath  of  mignonette  ;  and  a 
similar  bouquet  was  fastened  in  her  breast  with  a  black  rib- 
bon. Her  hair  was  dressed  very  simply  :  there  was  nothing 
remarkable  about  it  except  the  abundance  of  little  natural 
curls,  which  strayed  in  fascinating  disorder  about  her  neck  and 
temples.  She  wore  a  string  of  pearls  about  her  firm  round 
throat.  Kitty  had  seen  Anna  every  day,  and  was  delighted 
with  her;  but  now  that  she  saw  her  dressed  in  black,  instead 
of  the  violet  which  she  had  expected,  she  thought  that  she 
never  before  had  appreciated  her  full  beaut}'.  She  saw  her 
in  a  new  and  unexpected  light.  She  confessed  that  violet 
would  not  have  been  becoming  to  her,  but  that  her  charm 
consisted  entirely  in  her  independence  of  toilet ;  that  her 
toilet  was  only  an  accessory,  and  her  black  robe  showing  her 
splendid  shoulders  was  only  the  frame  in  which  she  appeared 
simple,  natural,  elegant,  and  at  the  same  time  full  of  gayety 
and  animation.  When  Kitty  joined  her,  she  was  standing  in 
her  usual  erect  attitude,  talking  with  the  master  of  the  house, 
her  head  lightly  bent  towards  him. 

"  No  :  I  would  not  cast  the  first  stone,"  she  was  saying  to 
him,  and  then,  perceiving  Kitty,  she  received  her  with  an 
affectionate  and  re-assuring  smile.  With  a  quick,  compre- 
hensive glance,  she  approved  of  the  young  girl's  toilet,  and 
gave  her  an  appreciative  nod,  which  Kitty  understood. 

"You  even  dance  into  the  ball-room,"  she  said. 

"  She  is  the  most  indefatigable  of  my  aids,"  said  Korsun- 
sky,  addressing  Anna  Arkady evna.  "The  princess  makes 
any  ball-room  gay  and  delightful.  Anna  Arkadyevna,  will 
you  take  a  turn?  "  he  asked,  with  a  bow. 

"  Ah  !  you  are  acquainted?  "  said  the  host. 

"  Who  is  it  we  don't  know,  my  wife  and  I?  We  are  like 
white  wolves,  —  everybody  knows  us,"  replied  Korsunsky. 
"  A  little  waltz,  Anna  Arkadyevna?  " 

"  I  don't  dance  when  I  can  help  it,"  she  replied. 

"  But  you  can't  help  it  to-night."  said  Korsunsky. 

At  this  moment  Vrousky  joined  them. 

"Nu!  if  I  can't  help  dancing,  let  us  dance,"  said  she, 
placing  her  hand  on  Korsuusky's  shoulder,  and  not  replying 
to  Vronsky's  salutation. 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  89 

"Why  is  she  vexed  with  him?"  thought  Kitty,  noticing 
that  Anna  purposely  paid  no  attention  to  Vronsky's  bow. 
Vronsky  joined  Kitty,  reminded  her  that  she  was  engaged  to 
him  for  the  first  quadrille,  and  expressed  regret  that  he  had 
not  seen  her  for  so  long.  Kitty,  while  she  was  looking  with 
admiration  at  Anna  in  the  mazes  of  the  waltz,  listened  to 
Vronsky.  She  expected  that  he  would  invite  her ;  but  he  did 
nothing  of  the  sort,  and  she  looked  at  him  with  astonishment. 
He  blushed,  and  with  some  precipitation  suggested  that  they 
should  waltz  ;  but  they  had  scarcely  taken  the  first  step, 
when  suddenly  the  music  stopped.  Kitty  looked  into  his 
face,  which  was  close  to  her  own,  and  for  many  a  long  day, 
even  after  years  had  passed,  the  loving  look  which  she  gave 
him  and  which  he  did  not  return  tore  her  heart  with  cruel 
shame. 

"  Pardon!  Pardon!  A  waltz  !  a  waltz  !  "  cried  Korsunsky 
at  the  other  end  of  the  ball-room,  and,  seizing  the  first  young 
lady  at  hand,  he  began  once  more  to  dance. 


XXIII. 

VRONSKY  took  a  few  turns  with  Kitty,  then  she  joined  her 
mother ;  and  after  a  word  or  two  with  the  Countess  Nord- 
stoue,  Vronsky  came  back  to  get  her  for  the  first  quadrille. 
In  the  intervals  of  the  dance  they  talked  of  unimportant  tri- 
fles, now  of  Korsunsky  and  his  wife  whom  Vronsky  described 
as  amiable  children  of  forty  years,  now  of  some  private  the- 
atricals ;  and  only  once  did  his  words  give  her  a  keen  pang,  — 
when  he  asked  if  Levin  were  there,  and  added  that  he  liked 
him  very  much.  But  Kitty  counted  little  on  the  quadrille  : 
it  was  the  mazurka  which  she  waited  for,  with  a  violent  beat- 
ing of  the  heart.  She  had  been  told  that  the  mazurka  gen- 
erally settled  all  such  questions.  Though  Vronsky  did  not 
ask  her  during  the  quadrille,  she  felt  sure  that  she  would  be 
selected  as  his  partner  for  the  mazurka  as  in  all  preceding 
balls.  She  was  so  sure  of  it  that  she  refused  five  invita- 
tions, saying  that  she  was  engaged.  This  whole  ball,  even 
to  the  last  quadrille,  seemed  to  Kitty  like  a  magical  dream, 
full  of  flowers,  of  joyous  sounds,  of  movement :  she  did  not 
cease  to  dance  until  her  strength  began  to  fail,  and  then  she 
begged  to  rest  a  moment.  But  in  dancing  the  last  quadrille 
with  one  of  those  tiresome  men  whom  she  found  it  impossible 


90  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

to  refuse,  she  found  herself  vis-a-vis  to  Vronsky  and  Anna. 
Kitty  had  not  fallen  in  with  Anna  since  the  beginning  of  the 
ball,  and  now  she  suddenly  seemed  to  her  in  another  new  and 
unexpected  light.  She  seemed  laboring  under  an  excitement 
such  as  Kitty  herself  had  experienced,  —  that  of  success, 
which  seemed  to  intoxicate  her  as  though  she  had  partaken 
too  freely  of  wine.  Kitty  understood  the  sensation,  and  rec- 
ognized the  symptoms  in  Anna's  brilliant  and  animated  eyes, 
her  joyous  and  triumphant  smile,  her  parted  lips,  a'nd  her 
harmonious  and  graceful  movements. 

"  Who  has  caused  it?  "  she  asked  herself.  "  All,  or  one?  " 
She  would  not  come  to  the  aid  of  her  unhappy  partner,  who 
was  struggling  to  renew  the  broken  thread  of  conversation  ; 
and  though  she  submitted  with  apparent  good  grace  to  the 
loud  orders  of  Korsunsky,  shouting  "Ladies'  chain"  and 
"All  hands  around,"  she  watched  her  closely,  and  her  heart 
oppressed  her  more  and  more.  "  No,  it  is  not  the  approval 
of  the  crowd  which  has  so  intoxicated  her,  but  the  admira- 
tion of  the  one.  Who  is  it? —  Can  it  be  he?  "  Every  time 
that  Vronsky  spoke  to  Anna,  her  eyes  sparkled,  and  a  smile 
of  happiness  parted  her  ruby  lips.  She  seemed  anxious  to 
hide  this  joy,  but  nevertheless  happiness  was  painted  on  her 
face.  "  Can  it  be  he?  "  thought  Kitty.  She  looked  at  him, 
and  was  horror-struck.  The  sentiments  that  were  reflected 
on  Anna's  face  as  in  a  mirror,  were  also  visible  on  his. 
Where  were  his  coolness,  his  calm  dignity,  the  repose  which 
always  marked  his  face?  Now,  as  he  addressed  his  partner, 
his  head  bent  as  though  he  were  ready  to  worship  her.  and 
his  look  expressed  at  once  humility  and  passion,  as  though 
it  said,  "  /  would  not  offend  you.  I  would  save  my  heart,  and 
how  can  I?  "  Such  was  the  expression  of  his  face,  and  she 
had  never  before  seen  it  in  him. 

Their  conversation  was  made  up  of  trifles,  and  yet  Kitty 
felt  that  every  trifling  word  decided  her  fate.  Strange  as  it 
might  seem,  they,  too,  in  jesting  about  Ivan  Ivanitch's  droll 
French  and  of  Miss  Eletska's  marriage,  found  in  every  word 
a  peculiar  meaning  which  they  understood  as  well  as  Kitty. 

In  the  poor  girl's  mind,  the  ball,  the  whole  evening,  every 
thing,  seemed  enveloped  in  mist.  Only  the  force  of  her 
education  sustained  her,  and  enabled  her  to  do  her  duty, 
that  is  to  say,  to  dance,  to  answer  questions,  even  to  smile. 
But  as  soon  as  the  mazurka  began,  and  the  chairs  had  been 
arranged,  and  the  smaller  rooms  were  all  deserted  in  favor  of 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  91 

the  great  ball-room,  a  sudden  attack  of  despair  and  terror 
seized  her.  She  had  refused  five  invitations,  she  had  no 
partner ;  and  the  last  chance  was  gone,  for  the  very  reason 
that  her  social  success  would  make  it  unlikely  to  occur  to 
any  one  that  she  would  be  without  a  partner.  She  would 
have  to  tell  her  mother  that  she  was  not  feeling  well,  and  go 
home,  but  it  seemed  impossible.  She  felt  as  though  she 
would  sink  through  the  floor. 

She  took  refuge  in  a  corner  of  a  boudoir,  and  threw  her- 
self into  an  arm-chair.  The  airy  skirts  of  her  robe  enveloped 
her  delicate  figure  as  in  a  cloud.  One  bare  arm,  as  yet  a 
little  thin,  but  dainty,  fell  without  energy,  and  lay  in  the 
folds  of  her  rose-colored  skirt :  with  the  other  she  fanned 
herself  nervously.  But  while  she  looked  like  a  lovely  butter- 
fly caught  amid  grasses,  and  read}-  to  spread  its  trembling 
wings,  a  horrible  despair  oppressed  her  heart. 

"  But  perhaps  I  am  mistaken  :  perhaps  it  is  not  so."  And 
again  she  recalled  what  she  had  seen. 

"Kitty,  what  docs  this  mean?  "  said  the  Countess  Nord- 
stone,  coming  to  her  with  noiseless  steps. 

Kitty's  lips  quivered  :  she  hastily  arose. 

"  Kitty,  aren't  you  dancing  the  mazurka?  " 

"No, — no,"  she  replied,  with  trembling  voice. 

"  I  heard  him  invite  her  for  the  mazurka,"  said  the  count- 
ess, knowing  that  Kitty  would  know  whom  she  meant.  "  She 
said,  '  What!  aren't  you  going  to  dance  with  the  Princess 
Shcherbatskaia?'  " 

"  Ach!  it's  all  one  to  me,"  said  Kitty. 

No  one  besides  herself  should  learn  of  her  trouble.  No  one 
should  know  that  she  had  refused  a  man  whom  perhaps  she 
loved,  —  refused  him  because  she  preferred  some  one  else. 

The  countess  went  in  search  of  Korsunskj',  who  was  her 
partner  for  the  mazurka,  and  sent  him  to  invite  Kitty. 

Fortunately,  Kitty,  who  danced  in  the  first  figure,  was  not 
obliged  to  talk  :  Korsunsky,  in  his  quality  of  leader,  was 
obliged  to  be  ubiquitous.  Vronsky  and  Anna  were  nearly 
opposite  to  her :  she  saw  them  sometimes  near,  sometimes 
at  a  distance,  as  their  turn  brought  them  into  the  figures ; 
and  as  she  watched  them,  she  felt  more  and  more  certain 
that  her  cup  of  sorrow  was  full.  She  saw  that  they  felt  them- 
selves alone  even  in  the  midst  of  the  crowded  room  ;  and  on 
Vronsky's  face,  usually  so  impassive  and  calm,  she  remarked 
that  mingled  expression  of  humility  and  fear,  such  as  strikes 


02  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

one  in  an  intelligent  clog,  conscious  of  having  done  wrong. 
If  Anna  smiled,  his  smile  replied  :  if  she  became  thoughtful, 
he  looked  serious.  An  almost  supernatural  power  seemed 
to  attract  Kitty's  gaze  to  Anna's  face.  She  was  charming 
in  her  simple  black  velvet ;  charming  were  her  round  arms, 
clasped  by  bracelets  ;  charming  her  exquisite  neck,  encircled 
with  pearls  ;  charming  her  dark,  curly  locks  breaking  from 
restraint ;  charming  the  slow  and  graceful  movements  of  her 
feet  and  hands  ;  charming  her  lovely  face,  full  of  animation  ; 
but  in  all  this  charm  there  was  something  terrible  and  cruel. 

Kitty  admired  her  more  than  ever,  even  while  her  pain 
increased.  She  felt  crushed,  and  her  face  told  the  story. 
When  Vronsky  passed  her,  in  some  figure  of  the  mazurka, 
he  hardly  knew  her,  so  much  had  she  changed. 

"  Lovely  ball,"  he  said,  so  as  to  say  something. 

"  Yes,"  was  her  reply. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  mazurka,  in  a  complicated  fig- 
ure recently  invented  by  Korsunsky,  Anna  was  obliged  to 
leave  the  circle,  and  call  out  two  gentlemen  and  two  ladies  : 
Kitty  was  one.  She  looked  at  Anna,  and  approached  her 
with  dismay.  Anna,  half  shutting  her  eyes,  looked  at  her 
with  a  smile,  and  pressed  her  hand ;  then  noticing  the  ex- 
pression of  melancholy  surprise  on  Kitty's  face,  she  turned 
to  the  other  lady,  and  began  to  talk  to  her  in  animated  tones. 

"Yes,  there  is  some  terrible,  almost  infernal  attraction 
about  her,"  said  Kitty  to  herself. 

Anna  did  not  wish  to  remain  to  supper,  but  the  host  in- 
sisted. 

"  Do  stay,  Anna  Arkadj^evna,"  said  Korsunsky,  touching 
her  on  the  arm.  "  Such  a  cotillion  I  have  in  mind!  Un 
bijou!  "  [A  jewel]. 

And  the  master  of  the  house,  looking  on  with  a  smile, 
encouraged  his  efforts  to  detain  her. 

"No,  I  cannot  stay,"  said  Anna,  also  smiling;  but  in 
spite  of  her  smile  the  two  men  understood  by  the  determina- 
tion in  her  voice  that  she  would  not  stay. 

"  No,  for  I  have  danced  here  in  Moscow  at  this  single  ball 
more  than  all  winter  in  Petersburg  ;  "  and  she  turned  towards 
Vronsky,  who  was  standing  near  her:  —  "one  must  rest 
after  a  journey." 

"  And  so  you  must  go  back  to-morrow?  "  he  said. 

"Yes:  I  think  so,"  replied  Anna,  as  though  surprised  at 
the  boldness  of  his  question.  But  while  she  was  speaking 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  93 

to  him,  the  brilliancy  of  her  eyes  and  her  smile  set  his  heart 
on  fire. 

Anna  Arkadyevna  did  not  stay  for  supper,  but  took  her 
departure. 

XXIV. 

"  YES,  there  must  be  something  repulsive  about  me," 
thought  Levin,  as  he  left  the  Shcherbatskys,  and  went  in 
search  of  his  brother.  'k  I  am  not  popular  with  men.  They 
say  it  is  pride.  No,  I  am  not  proud :  if  I  had  been  proud, 
I  should  not  have  put  myself  in  my  present  situation." 
And  he  imagined  himself  to  be  a  happy,  popular,  calm, 
witty  Vronsky,  with  strength  enough  to  avoid  such  a  terrible 
position  as  he  had  put  himself  into  on  that  evening.  "  Yes, 
she  naturally  chose  him,  and  I  have  no  right  to  complain 
about  any  one  or  any  thing.  I  am  the  only  person  to  blame. 
What  right  had  I  to  think  that  she  would  unite  her  life  with 
mine?  Who  am  I?  and  what  am  I?  A  man  useful  to  no 
one,  — a  good-for-nothing." 

Then  the  memory  of  his  brother  Nikolai'  came  back  to 
him.  "  A\ras  he  not  right  in  saying  that  every  thing  in  this 
world  was  miserable  and  wretched?  Have  we  been  just  in 
our  judgment  of  brother  Nikolai?  Of  course,  in  the  eyes 
of  Prokofi,  who  saw  him  drunk  and  in  ragged  clothes,  he  is 
a  miserable  creature  ;  but  I  judge  him  differently.  I  know 
his  heart,  and  I  know  that  we  are  alike.  And  I,  instead  of 
going  to  find  him,  have  been  out  dining,  and  to  this  party  !  " 
Levin  read  his  brother's  address  in  the  light  of  a  street- 
lamp,  and  called  an  izvoshchik  (hack-driver).  While  on  the 
way,  he  recalled  one  by  one  the  incidents  of  Nikolai's  life. 
He  remembered  how  at  the  university,  and  for  a  year  after 
his  graduation,  he  had  lived  like  a  monk  notwithstanding  the 
ridicule  of  his  comrades,  strictly  devoted  to  all  the  forms  of 
religion,  services,  fasts,  turning  his  back  on  all  pleasures, 
and  especially  women,  and  then  how  he  had  suddenly  turned 
around,  and  fallen  into  the  company  of  people  of  the  low- 
est lives,  and  entered  upon  a  course  of  dissipation  and 
debauchery.  He  remembered  his  conduct  towards  a  lad 
whom  he  had  taken  from  the  country  to  bring  up,  and  whom 
he  whipped  so  severely  in  a  fit  of  anger  that  he  narrowly 
escaped  being  transported  for  mayhem.  He  remembered 
his  conduct  towards  a  swindler  whom  he  had  given  a  bill  of 


94  ANNA  KAEfiNINA. 

exchange  in  payment  of  a  gambling  debt,  and  whom  he  had 
caused  to  be  arrested  :  this  was,  in  fact,  the  bill  of  exchange 
which  Sergei  Ivanuitch  had  just  paid.  He  remembered  the 
night  spent  by  Nikolai  at  the  station-house  on  account  of  a 
spree ;  the  scandalous  lawsuit  against  his  brother  Serg6i 
Ivanuitch,  because  the  latter  had  refused  to  pay  his  share  of 
their  maternal  inheritance  ;  and  finally  he  recalled  his  last 
adventure,  when,  having  taken  a  position  in  one  of  the  West- 
ern governments,  he  was  dismissed  for  assaulting  a  superior. 
All  this  was  detestable,  but  the  impression  on  Levin  was  less 
odious  than  it  would  be  on  those  who  did  not  know  Nikolai', 
did  not  know  his  history,  did  not  know  his  heart. 

Levin  did  not  forget  how  at  the  time  that  Nikolai  was 
seeking  to  curb  the  evil  passions  of  his  nature  by  devotions, 
fasting,  prayers,  and  other  religious  observances,  no  one  had 
approved  of  it,  or  aided  him,  but  how,  on  the  contrary,  every 
one,  even  himself,  had  turned  it  into  ridicule :  they  had 
mocked  him,  nicknamed  him  Noah,  the  monk  !  Then  when 
he  had  fallen,  no  one  had  helped  him,  but  all  had  fled  from 
him  with  horror  and  disgust.  Levin  felt  that  his  brother 
Nikolai  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  in  spite  of  all  the  deform- 
ity of  his  life,  could  not  be  so  very  much  worse  than  those 
who  despised  him.  "  I  will  go  and  find  him,  and  tell  him 
every  thing,  and  show  him  that  I  love  him,  and  think  about 
him,"  said  Levin  to  himself,  and  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
evening  he  bade  the  driver  take  him  to  the  hotel  indicated  on 
the  address. 

"Up-stairs,  No.  12  and  13,"  said  the  Swiss,  in  reply  to 
Levin's  question. 

"Is  he  at  home?" 

"Probably." 

The  door  of  No.  12  was  ajar,  and  from  the  room  came  the 
dense  fumes  of  inferior  tobacco.  Levin  heard  an  unknown 
voice  speaking  ;  then  he  recognized  his  brother's  presence  by 
his  cough. 

When  he  entered  the  door,  he  heard  the  unknown  voice 
saying,  "All  depends  upon  whether  the  affair  is  conducted 
in  a  proper  and  rational  manner." 

Konstantin  Levin  glanced  through  the  doorwa}*,  and  saw 
that  the  speaker  was  a  young  man,  clad  like  a  peasant,  and 
with  an  enormous  shapka  on  his  head.  On  the  sofa  was  sit- 
ting a  young  woman,  with  pock-marked  face,  and  dressed  in 
a  woollen  gown  without  collar  or  cuffs.  Konstantin' s  heart 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  95 

sank  to  think  of  the  strange  people  with  whom  his  brother 
associated.  No  one  heard  him  ;  and  while  he  was  removing 
his  goloshes,  he  listened  to  what  the  man  in  the  doublet  said. 
He  was  speaking  of  some  enterprise  under  consideration. 

"Nu!  the  Devil  take  the  privileged  classes!"  said  his 
brother's  voice,  after  a  n't  of  coughing. 

O  O 

"  Masha,  see  if  you  can't  get  us  something  to  eat,  and 
bring  some  wine  if  there's  any  left:  if  not,  go  for  some." 

The  woman  arose,  and  as  she  came  out  of  the  inner  room, 
she  saw  Konstantin. 

"  A  gentleman  here,  Nikolai  Dmitritch,"  she  cried. 

"  What  is  wanted?"  said  the  voice  of  Nikolai'  Levin  an- 
grily- 

"•  It's  I,"  replied  Konstantin,  appearing  at  the  door. 

"Who's  I?  "  repeated  Nikolai's  voice,  still  more  angrily. 

A  sound  of  some  one  quickly  rising  and  stumbling  against 
something,  and  then  Konstantin  saw  his  brother  standing  be- 
fore him  at  the  door,  infirm,  tall,  thin,  and  bent,  with  great 
startled  eyes.  He  was  still  thinner  than  when  Konstantin  last 
saw  him,  three  years  before.  He  wore  a  short  overcoat. 
His  hands  and  his  bony  frame  seemed  to  him  more  colossal 
than  ever.  His  hair  was  cut  close,  his  mustaches  stood  out 
straight  from  his  lips,  and  his  e}Tes  glared  at  his  visitor  with 
a  strange,  uncanny  light. 

"  Ah,  Kostia  !  "  he  cried,  suddenly  recognizing  his  brother, 
and  his  eyes  shone  with  joy.  But  in  an  instant  he  turned 
towards  his  brother,  and  only  made  a  quick,  convulsive 
motion  of  his  head  and  neck,  as  though  his  cravat  choked 
him,  a  gesture  well  known  to  Konstantin,  and  at  the  same 
time  an  entirely  different  expression,  savage  and  cruel,  swept 
over  his  pinched  features. 

"I  wrote  both  to  you  and  to  Sergei  Tvanuitch  that  I  do 
not  know  you,  nor  wish  to  know  you.  What  dost  thou,  what 
do  you,  want? " 

He  was  not  at  all  such  as  Konstantin  had  imagined  him. 
The  hard  and  wild  elements  of  his  character,  which  made 
family  relationship  difficult,  had  faded  from  Konstantiu  Lev- 
in's memory  whenever  he  thought  about  him  ;  and  now  when 
he  saw  his  face  and  the  characteristic  convulsive  motions  of 
his  head,  he  remembered  it. 

"  But  I  wanted  nothing  of  you  except  to  see  you,"  he 
replied,  a  little  timidly.  '•  I  only  came  to  see  you." 

His  brother's  diflideuce  apparently  disarmed  Nikolai'. 


96  ANNA 

"Ah!  did  you?"  said  he.  "Nu!  come  in,  sit  down. 
Do  you  want  some  supper?  Masha,  bring  enough  for  three. 
No,  hold  on  !  Do  you  know  who  this  is?  "  he  asked,  pointing 
to  the  young  man  in  the  doublet.  "This  gentleman  is  Mr. 
Kritsky,  a  friend  of  mine  from  Kief,  a  very  remarkable  man. 
It  seems  the  police  are  after  him,  because  he  is  not  a  cow- 
ard." And  he  looked,  as  he  always  did  after  speaking,  at 
all  who  were  in  the  room.  Then  seeing  that  the  woman, 
who  stood  at  the  door,  was  about  to  leave,  he  shouted,  — 

"Wait,  I  tell  you." 

Then  with  his  blundering,  ignorant  mode  of  speech,  which 
Konstantin  knew  so  well,  he  began  to  narrate  the  whole  story 
of  Kritsky's  life  ;  how  he  had  been  driven  from  the  univer- 
sity, because  he  had  tried  to  found  an  aid  society  and  Sun- 
day schools  among  the  students ;  how  afterwards  he  had 
been  appointed  teacher  in  the  primary  school,  only  to  be  dis- 
missed ;  and  how  finally  they  had  tried  him  for  something  or 
other. 

"  Were  you  at  the  University  of  Kief?  "  asked  Konstantin 
of  Kritsky,  in  order  to  break  the  awkward  silence. 

"Yes,  at  Kief,"  replied  Kritsky  curtly,  with  a  frown. 

"  And  this  woman,"  cried  Nikolai  Levin,  with  a  gesture, 
"  is  the  companion  of  my  life,  Marya  Nikolayevna.  I  found 
her,"  he  said,  shrugging  his  shoulders, —  "but  I  love  her, 
and  I  esteem  her  ;  and  all  who  want  to  know  me,  must  love 
her  and  esteem  her.  She  is  just  the  same  as  my  wife,  just 
the  same.  Thus  you  know  with  whom  you  have  to  do.  And 
if  you  think  that  you  lower  yourself,  there's  the  door  !  "  And 
again  his  questioning  eyes  looked  about  the  room. 

"I  do  not  understand  how  I  should  lower  nryself." 

"All  right,  Masha,  bring  us  up  enough  for  three,  —  some 
vodka  and  wine.  No,  wait ;  no  matter,  though  ;  go  ! 


XXV. 

"As  you  see,"  continued  Nikolai  Levin,  frowning,  and 
speaking  with  effort.  So  great  was  his  agitation  that  he  did 
not  know  what  to  do  or  to  say.  "  But  do  you  see?  "  and  he 
pointed  to  the  corner  of  the  room  where  lay  some  iron  bars 
attached  to  straps.  "  Do  you  see  that?  That  is  the  begin- 
ning of  a  new  work  which  we  are  undertaking.  This  work 
belongs  to  a  productive  labor  association." 


ANNA   KARtiNlNA.  97 

• 

Konstantin  scarcely  listened  :  he  was  looking  at  his  brother's 
sick,  consumptive  face,  and  his  pity  grew  upon  him,  and  he 
could  not  heed  what  his  brother  was  saying  about  the  labor 
association.  He  saw  that  the  work  was  only  an  anchor  of 
safety  to  keep  him  from  absolute  self-abasement.  Nikolai' 
went  on  to  say,  — 

"  You  know  that  capital  is  crushing  the  laborer  :  the  labor- 
ing classes  with  us  are  the  muzhiks,  and  they  bear  the  whole 
weight  of  toil ;  and  no  matter  how  they  exert  themselves, 
they  can  never  get  above  their  condition  of  laboring  cattle. 
All  the  advantages  that  their  productive  labor  creates,  all 
that  could  better  their  lot,  give  them  leisure,  and  therefore 
instruction,  all  their  superfluous  profits,  are  swallowed  up 
by  the  capitalists.  And  society  is  so  constituted  that  the 
harder  they  work,  the  more  the  proprietors  and  the  merchants 
fatten  at  their  expense,  while  they  remain  beasts  of  burden 
still.  And  this  must  be  changed."  He  finished  speaking, 
and  looked  at  his  brother. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  replied  Konstantin,  looking  at  the  pink 
spots  which  burned  in  his  brother's  hollow  cheeks. 

"And  we  are  organizing  an  artel  of  locksmiths  where  all 
will  be  in  common,  —  work,  profits,  and  even  the  tools." 

"  Where  will  this  artel  be  situated?  "  asked  Konstantin. 

"  In  the  village  of  Vozdrem,  government  of  Kazan." 

"  Yes,  but  why  in  a  village?  In  the  villages,  it  seems  to 
me,  there  is  plenty  of  work :  why  associated  locksmiths  in  a 
village?" 

"  Because  the  muzhiks  are  serfs,  just  as  much  as  they  ever 
were,  and  you  and  Serge" i  Ivanuitch  don't  like  it  because  we 
want  to  free  them  from  this  slavery,"  replied  Nikolai,  vexed 
by  his  brother's  question.  While  he  spoke,  Konstantin  was 
looking  about  the  melancholy,  dirty  room  :  he  sighed,  and 
his  sigh  made  Nikolai'  still  more  angry. 

"  I  know  the  aristocratic  prejudices  of  such  men  as  you 
and  Sergei  Ivanuitch.  I  know  that  he  is  spending  all  the 
strength  of  his  mind  in  defence  of  the  evils  which  crush  us." 

"  No !  but  why  do  you  speak  of  Serge" i  Ivanuitch?  "  asked 
Levin,  smiling. 

"  Serge"i  Ivanuitch?  This  is  why  !  "  cried  Nikolai  at  the 
mention  of  Serge"  i  Ivanuitch  —  "  this  is  why  !  .  .  .  yet  what 
is  the  good?  tell  me  this  —  what  did  you  come  here  for? 
You  despise  all  this  ;  very  good  !  Go  away,  for  God's  sake," 
he  cried,  rising  from  his  chair,  —  "go  away  !  go  away  !  " 


98  ANNA   KAKtiNINA. 

• 

"  I  don't  despise  any  thing,"  said  Konstantin  gently  :  "  I 
only  refrain  from  discussing." 

At  this  moment  Mary  a  Nikolayevna  came  in.  Nikolai' 
turned  towards  her  angrily,  but  she  quickly  stepped  up  to 
him,  and  whispered  a  few  words  in  his  ear. 

"  I  am  not  well,  I  easily  become  irritable,"  he  explained, 
calmer,  and  breathing  with  difficulty,  "  and  you  just  spoke  to 
me  about  Sergei  Ivanuitch  and  his  article.  It  is  so  utterly 
insane,  so  false,  so  full  of  error.  How  can  a  man,  who 
knows  nothing  about  justice,  write  on  the  subject?  Have 
you  read  his  article?  "  said  he,  turning  to  Kritsky,  and  then, 
going  to  the  table,  he  brushed  off  the  half-rolled  cigarettes. 

" 1  have  not  read  it,"  replied  Kritsky  with  a  gloomy  face, 
evidently  not  wishing  to  take  part  in  the  conversation. 

"  Why?  "  demanded  Nikolai'  irritably. 

"  Because  I  don't  care  to  waste  my  time." 

"  That  is,  excuse  me  —  how  do  you  know  that  it  would  be 
a  waste  of  time?  For  many  people  this  article  is  un-rjet-at- 
able,  because  it  is  above  them.  But  I  find  it  different :  I  see 
the  thoughts  through  and  through,  and  know  wherein  it  is 
weak." 

No  one  replied.  Kritsky  immediately  arose,  and  took  his 
shapka. 

"Won't  you  take  some  lunch?  Nu!  good-by !  Come 
to-morrow  with  the  locksmith." 

Kritsky  had  hardly  left  the  room,  when  Nikolai'  smiled  and 
winked. 

"  He  is  to  be  pitied  ;  but  I  see  "  — 

Kritsky,  calling  at  the  door,  interrupted  him. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked,  joining  him  in  the  cor- 
ridor. Left  alone  with  Mary  a  Nikolayevna,  Levin  said  to 
her,  — 

"  Have  you  been  long  with  my  brother?  " 

"  This  is  the  second  year.  His  health  has  become  very 
feeble  :  he  drinks  a  great  deal,' '  she  said. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  He  drinks  vodka,  and  it  is  bad  for  him." 

"  Does  he  drink  too  much?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  looking  timidly  towards  the  door  where 
Nikolai'  Levin  was  just  entering. 

"What  were  you  talking  about?"  he  demanded  with  a 
scowl,  and  looking  from  one  to  the  other  with  angry  eyes. 
"Tell  me." 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  99 

"  Oh  !  nothing,"  replied  Konstantin  in  confusion. 

"  You  don't  want  to  answer:  till  right!  don't.  But  you 
have  no  business  to  be  talking  with  her :  she  is  a  girl,  you  a 
gentleman,"  he  shouted  with  the  twitching  of  his  neck.  "I 
see  that  you  have  understood  ever}'  thing,  and  judged  every 
thing,  and  that  you  look  with  scorn  on  the  errors  of  my 
ways." 

He  went  on  speaking,  raising  his  voice. 

"Nikolai  Dmitritch !  Nikolai  Dmitriteh !  "  murmured 
Marya  Nikolayevna,  coming  close  to  him. 

"Nut  very  good,  very  good.  .  .  .  Supper,  then?  ah! 
here  it  is,"  he  said,  seeing  a  servant  entering  with  a  platter. 

"Here!  put  it  here!  "  he  said  crossly,  then,  taking  the 
vodka,  he  poured  out  a  glass,  and  drank  it  eagerly. 

"Will  you  have  a  drink?"  he  asked  his  brother.  The 
sudden  cloud  had  passed. 

"  Nu!  no  more  about  Sergei  Ivanuitch  !  I  am  very  glad 
to  see  you.  Henceforth  people  can't  si\.y  that  we  are  not 
friends.  Nu!  drink!  Tell  me  what  you  are  doing,"  he 
said,  taking  a  piece  of  bread,  and  pouring  out  a  second  glass. 
"  How  do  you  live?  " 

"  I  live  alone  in  the  country  as  I  alwa}-s  have,  and  busy 
myself  with  farming,"  replied  Konstantiu,  looking  with  ter- 
ror at  the  eagerness  with  which  his  brother  ate  and  drank, 
and  trying  to  hide  his  impressions. 

"  Why  don't  you  get  married?  " 

"  I  have  not  come  to  that  yet,"  replied  Konstantin,  blush- 
ing. 

"Why  so?  For  me  —  it's  all  over!  I  have  wasted  my 
life  !  This  I  have  said,  and  always  shall  say,  that,  if  they 
had  given  me  my  share  of  the  estate  when  I  needed  it,  my 
whole  life  would  have  been  different." 

Konstantin  hastened  to  change  the  conversation.  "  Did 
you  know  that  your  Vaniushka  [Jack]  is  with  me  at  Pokrov- 
sky  as  book-keeper?  "  he  said.  Nikolai's  neck  twitched,  and 
he  sank  into  thought. 

"Da!  (Yes).  Tell  me  what  is  doing  at  Pokrovsky.  Is 
the  house  just  the  same  ?  and  the  birches  and  our  study-room  ? 
Is  Filipp,  the  gardener^  still  alive?  How  I  remember  the 
summer-house  and  the  sofa  !  —  Da  !  don't  let  any  thing  in 
the  house  be  changed,  but  get  a  wife  right  away,  and  begin 
to  live  as  you  used  to.  I  will  come  to  visit  you  if  you  will 
get  a  good  wife." 


100  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

"  Then  come  now  with  me,"  said  Konstantin.  "How  well 
we  would  get  along  together !  ' ' 

"  1  would  come  if  I  weren't  afraid  of  meeting  Sergei  Ivau- 
uitch." 

"  You  would  not  meet  him  :  I  live  absolutely  independent 
of  him." 

"Yes;  but  whatever  you  say,  you  would  have  to  choose 
between  him  and  me,"  said  Nikolai,  looking  timorously  in 
his  brother's  eyes.  This  timidity  touched  Konstantin. 

"  If  you  want  to  hear  my  whole  confession  as  to  this  mat- 
ter, I  will  tell  you  that  1  take  sides  neither  with  you  nor 
with  him  in  your  quarrel.  You  are  both  in  the  wrong  ;  but 
in  your  case  the  wrong  is  external,  while  in  his  the  wrong  is 
inward." 

"Ha,  ha!  Do  you  understand  it?  do  you  understand 
it?"  cried  Nikolai  with  an  expression  of  joy. 

"  But  I,  for  my  part,  if  you  would  like  to  know,  value 
your  friendship  higher  because  "  — 

"Why?  why?" 

Konstantin  could  not  say  that  it  was  because  Nikolai  was 
sick,  and  heeded  his  friendship ;  but  Nikolai  understood  that 
that  was  what  he  meant,  and,  frowning  darkly,  he  betook 
himself  to  the  vodka. 

"Enough,  Nikolai  Dmitritch !  "  cried  Marya  Nikola- 
yevna,  laying  her  great  pudgy  hand  on  the  decanter. 

"  Let  me  alone  !  don't  bother  me,  or  I'll  strike  you,"  he 
cried. 

Marya  Nikolayevna  smiled  with  her  gentle  and  good- 
natured  smile,  which  pacified  NikolaY,  and  she  took  the 
vodka. 

"There!  Do  3-011  think  that  she  does  not  understand 
things?  "  said  Nikolai.  "  She  understands  this  thing  better 
than  all  of  you.  Isn't  there  something  about  her  good  and 
gentle?" 

"  Haven't  you  ever  been  in  Moscow  before?  "  said  Kon- 
stantin, in  order  to  say  something  to  her. 

".Do/  don't  say  vui  [you]  to  her.  It  frightens  her.  No 
one  said  vui  to  her  except  the  justice  of  the  peace,  when 
they  had  her  up  because  she  wanted  to  escape  from  the 
house  of  ill  fame  where  she  was.  My  God  !  how  senseless 
every  thing  is  in  this  world  !  "  he  suddenly  exclaimed.  "  These 
new  institutions,  these  justices  of  the  peace,  the  zemstoo, 
what  abominations !  " 


ANNA   K  All  £  NINA.  101 

And  he  began  to  relate  his  experiences  with  the  new  insti- 
tutions. 

Kunstantin  listened  to  him ;  and  the  criticisms  on  the 
absurdity  of  the  new  institutions,  which  he  had  himself  often 
expressed,  now  that  he  heard  them  from  his  brother's  lips, 
seemed  disagreeable  to  him. 

"We  shall  find  out  all  about  it  in  the  next  world,'  he 
said  jestingly. 

"  In  the  next  world?  Och!  I  don't  like  your  next  world, 
I  don't  like  it,"  he  repeated,  fixing  his  timid,  haggard  eyes 
on  his  brother's  face.  "  And  }-et  it  would  seem  good  to  go 
from  these  abominations,  this  chaos,  from  this  unnatural  state 
of  things,  from  one's  self  ;  but  I  am  afraid  of  death,  horribly 
afraid  of  death  !  "  He  shuddered.  "  Da!  drink  something  ! 
Would  you  like  some  champagne  ?  or  would  you  rather  go 
out  somewhere?  Let's  go  and  see  the  gypsies.  You  know  I 
am  very  fond  of  gypsies  and  Russian  folk-songs." 

His  speech  grew  thick,  and  he  hurried  from  one  subject 
to  another.  Konstantin,  with  Masha's  aid,  persuaded  him  to 
stay  at  home  ;  and  they  put  him  on  his  bed  completely  drunk. 

Masha  promised  to  write  Koustantin  in  case  of  need,  and 
to  persuade  Nikolai  Levin  to  come  and  live  with  his  brother. 


XXVI. 

THE  next  forenoon  Levin  left  Moscow,  and  towards  even- 
ing was  at  home.  On  the  journey  he  talked  with  the  people 
in  the  car  about  politics,  about  the  new  railroads,  and,  just 
as  in  Moscow,  he  felt  oppressed  by  the  chaos  of  conflicting 
opinions,  weary  of  himself,  and  ashamed  without  knowing 
why.  But  when  he  reached  his  station,  and  perceived  his 
one-eyed  coachman,  Ignat,  in  his  kaftdii,  with  his  collar  above 
his  ears  ;  when  he  saw,  in  the  flickering  light  cast  by  the  dim 
station-lamps,  his  covered  sledge  and  his  horses  with  their 
neatly  cropped  tails  and  their  jingling  bells  ;  when  Ignat,  as 
he  tucked  the  robes  comfortably  around  him,  told  him  all  the 
news  of  the  village,  about  the  coming  of  the  contractor,  and 
how  Pava  the  cow  had  calved,  —  then  it  seemed  to  him  that 
the  chaos  resolved  itself  a  little,  and  his  shame  and  dis- 
satisfaction passed  away.  The  very  sight  of  Iguat  and  his 
horses  was  a  consolation  ;  but  as  soon  as  he  had  put  on  his 
tulup  (sheep-skin  coat),  which  he  found  in  the  sleigh,  and 


102  ANNA   KARtiNlNA. 

enscoucecl  himself  in  his  seat,  and  began  to  think  what  orders 
he  should  have  to  give  as  soon  he  reached  home,  and  at  the 
same  time  examined  the  off-horse,  which  used  to  be  his  saddle- 
horse,  a  swift  though  broken-down  steed,  then,  indeed,  what 
he  had  experienced  came  to  him  in  an  absolutely  different 
light.  He  felt  himself  again,  and  no  longer  wished  to  be 
a  different  person.  He  only  wished  to  be  better  than  he  had 
ever  been  before.  In  the  first  place,  he  resolved  from  that 
day  forth  that  he  would  never  look  forward  to  extraordinary 
joys,  such  as  had  led  him  to  make  his  offer  of  marriage  ;  and, 
in  the  second  place,  he  would  never  allow  himself  to  be  led 
away  by  low  passion,  the  remembrances  of  which  so  shamed 
him  when  he  had  made  his  proposal.  And  lastly  he  prom- 
ised not  to  forget  his  brother  Nikolai  again,  or  let  him  out  of 
sight,  and  to  go  to  his  aid  as  soon  as  it  seemed  needful,  and 
that  seemed  likely  to  be  very  soon.  Then  the  conversation 
about  communism,  which  he  had  so  lightly  treated  with  his 
brother,  came  back  to  him,  and  made  him  reflect.  A  reform 
of  economic  conditions  seemed  to  him  doubtful,  but  he  was 
none  the  less  impressed  by  the  unfair  difference  between  the 
misery  of  the  people  and  his  own  superfluity  of  blessings, 
and  he  promised  himself  that,  though  hitherto  he  had  worked 
hard,  and  lived  economically,  he  would  in  the  future  work 
still  harder,  and  live  with  even  less  luxury  than  ever.  And 
the  effect  upon  himself  of  all  these  reflections  was  that 
throughout  the  long  ride  from  the  station  he  was  the  subject 
of  the  pleasantest  illusions.  With  the  full  enjoyment  of 
his  hopes  for  a  new  and  better  life,  he  reached  his  house. 
The  clock  was  just  striking  ten. 

From  the  windows  of  the  room  occupied  by  his  old  nurse, 
Agafya  Mikhailovna,  who  fulfilled  the  functions  of  house- 
keeper, the  light  fell  upon  the  snow-covered  steps  before  his 
house.  She  was  not  yet  asleep.  Kuzma,  wakened  by  her, 
barefooted,  and  with  sleep}'  eyes,  hurried  down  to  open  the 
door.  Laska,  the  setter,  almost  knocking  Kuzma  down  in 
her  desire  to  get  ahead  of  him,  ran  to  meet  her  master,  and 
jumped  upon  him,  trying  to  place  her  fore-paws  on  his  breast. 

"  You  are  back  very  soon,  bdtiushka"  [little  father],  said 
Agafya  Mikhailovna. 

kt  I  was  bored,  Agafya  Mikhailovna :  'tis  good  to  go  visit- 
ing, but  it's  better  at  home,"  said  he,  as  he  went  into  his 
library. 

The  library  was  soon  lighted  with  wax  candles  brought  in 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  103 

haste.  The  familiar  details  little  by  little  came  home  to  him, 
—  the  great  antlers,  the  shelves  lined  with  books,  the  mirror, 
the  stove  with  holes  burned  through  and  long  ago  beyond  re- 
pair, the  ancestral  sofa,  the  great  table,  and  on  the  table  an 
open  book,  a  broken  ash-tray,  a  note-book  tilled  with  his 
writing.  As  he  saw  all  these  things,  for  the  moment  he  be- 
gan to  doubt  the  possibility  of  any  such  change  in  his  man- 
ner of  life  as  he  had  dreamed  of  during  his  journey.  All 
these  signs  of  his  past  seemed  to  say  to  him,  "  No,  thou 
shalt  not  leave  us  !  thou  shalt  not  become  another ;  but  thou 
shalt  still  be  as  thou  hast  alwa3's  been,  —  with  thy  doubts,  thy 
everlasting  self-dissatisfaction,  thy  idle  efforts  at  reform,  thy 
failures,  and  thy  perpetual  striving  for  a  happiness  which 
will  never  be  thine." 

But  while  these  external  objects  spoke  to  him  thus,  a  dif- 
ferent voice  whispered  to  his  soul,  bidding  him  cease  to  be  a 
slave  to  his  past,  and  declaring  that  a  man  has  every  possi- 
bility within  him.  And  listening  to  this  voice,  he  went  to 
one  side  of  the  room,  where  he  found  two  dumb-bells,  each 
weighing  forty  pounds.  And  he  began  to  practise  his  gym- 
nastic exercises  with  them,  endeavoring  to  fill  himself  with 
strength  and  courage.  At  the  door,  a  noise  of  steps  was 
heard.  He  instantly  put  down  the  dumb-bells. 

It  was  the  prikashchik  (intendant),  who  carne  to  say  that, 
thanks  to  God,  every  thing  was  well,  but  that  the  wheat  in 
the  new  drying-room  had  got  burnt.  This  provoked  Levin. 
This  new  drying-room  he  had  himself  built,  and  partially  in- 
vented. But  the  prikashchik  was  entirely  opposed  to  it.  and 
now  he  announced  with  a  modest  but  triumphant  expression 
that  the  wheat  was  burnt.  Levin  was  sure  that  it  was  be- 
cause he  had  neglected  the  precautions  a  hundred  times  sug- 
gested. He  grew  angry,  and  reprimanded  the  prikashchik. 
But  there  was  one  fortunate  and  important  event:  Pava,  his 
best,  his  most  beautiful  cow,  which  he  had  bought  at  the 
cattle-show,  had  calved. 

"  Kuzma,  give  me  my  tulup.  And  you,"  said  he  to  the 
prikashchik,  "  get  a  lantern.  I  will  go  and  see  her." 

The  stable  for  the  cattle  was  not  far  from  the  house. 
Crossing  the  court-yard,  where  the  snow  was  heaped  under 
the  lilac-bushes,  he  stepped  up  to  the  stable.  As  he  opened 
the  door,  which  creaked  on  its  frosty  hinges,  he  was  met 
by  the  warm,  penetrating  breath  from  the  stalls,  and  the 
kine,  astonished  at  the  unwonted  light  of  the  lantern,  turned 


104  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

around  from  their  beds  of  fresh  straw.  The  shiny  black 
and  white  back  of  his  Holland  cow  gleamed  in  the  obscurity. 
Berkut,  the  bull,  with  a  ring  in  his  nose,  tried  to  get  to  his 
feet,  but  changed  his  mind,  and  only  snorted  when  they 
approached  his  stanchion. 

The  beautiful  Pava,  huge  as  a  hippopotamus,  was  lying 
near  her  calf,  snuffing  at  it,  and  protecting  it  by  her  back,  as 
with  a  rampart,  from  those  who  would  come  too  close. 

Levin  entered  the  stall,  examined  Pava,  and  lifted  the 
calf,  spotted  with  red  and  white,  on  its  long,  awkward  legs. 
Pava  bellowed  with  anxiety,  but  was  re-assured  when  the 
calf  was  restored  to  her,  and  began  to  lick  it  with  her  rough 
tongue.  The  calf  hid  its  nose  under  its  mother's  side,  and 
frisked  its  tail.  "Bring  the  light  this  wa}',  Fyodor,  this 
way,"  said  Levin,  examining  the  calf.  "Like  its  mother, 
but  its  hair  is  like  the  sire,  long  and  prettily  spotted. 
Vasili  Fyodorovitch,  isn't  it  a  beauty?"  turning  towards 
his  priktishchik,  forgetting,  in  his  joy  over  the  new-born  calf, 
the  grief  caused  by  the  burning  of  his  wheat. 

"Why  should  it  be  homely?  But  Simon  the  contractor 
was  here  the  day  after  you  left.  It  will  be  necessary  to 
come  to  terms  with  him,  Konstautin  Dmitriteh,"  replied  the 
prikashchik.  "I  have  already  spoken  to  you  about  the 
machine."  This  single  phrase  brought  Levin  back  to  all 
the  details  of  his  enterprise,  which  was  great  and  compli- 
cated ;  and  from  the  stable  he  went  directly  to  the  office,  and 
after  a  long  conversation  with  the  prikashchik  and  Simon 
the  contractor,  he  went  back  to  the  house,  and  marched 
straight  into  the  parlor. 


XXVII. 

LEVIN'S  house  was  large  and  old,  but,  though  he  lived 
there  alone,  he  occupied  and  warmed  the  whole  of  it.  He 
knew  that  this  was  ridiculous  ;  he  knew  that  it  was  bad,  and 
contrary  to  his  new  plans  ;  but  this  house  was  a  world  of 
itself  to  him.  It  was  a  world  where  his  father  and  mother 
had  lived  and  died,  and  had  lived  a  life,  which,  for  Levin, 
seemed  the  ideal  of  all  perfection,  and  which  he  dreamed  of 
renewing  with  his  own  wife,  with  his  own  family. 

Levin  scarcely  remembered  his  mother,  but  this  remem- 
brance was  sacred  ;  and  his  future  wife,  as  he  imagined  her, 

7  O  / 


ANNA    K  A  It  £  NINA.  105 

was  to  be  the  counterpart  of  the  ideally  charming  and  ador- 
able woman,  his  mother.  For  him,  love  for  a  woman  could 
not  exist  outside  of  marriage  ;  but  he  imagined  the  family 
relationship  first,  and  only  afterwards  the  woman  who  would 
be  the  centre  of  the  family.  His  ideas  about  marriage  were 
therefore  essentially  different  from  those  held  by  the  majority 
of  his  friends,  for  whom  it  was  only  one  of  the  innumerable 
actions  of  the  social  life  ;  for  Levin  it  was  the  most  important 
act  of  his  life,  whereon  all  his  happiness  depended,  and  now 
he  must  renounce  it. 

AVhen  he  entered  his  little  parlor  where  he  generally  took 
tea,  and  threw  himself  into  his  arm-chair  with  a  book,  while 
Agafya  Mikhailovna  brought  him  his  cup,  and  sat  down  near 
the  window,  saying  as  usual,  "  But  I'll  sit  down,  bdti- 
tishka,"  —  then  he  felt,  strangely  enough,  that  he  had  not 
renounced  his  day-dreams,  and  that  he  could  not  live  with- 
out them.  Were  it  Kitty  or  another,  still  it  would  be.  He 
read  his  book,  had  his  mind  on  what  he  read,  and  at  the 
same  time  listened  to  the  unceasing  prattle  of  Agafya  Mik- 
hailovna, but  his  imagination  was  nevertheless  filled  with 
these  pictures  of  family  happiness  which  hovered  before  him. 
He  felt  that  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  some  change  was  going 
on,  some  modification  arising,  some  crystallization  taking 
place. 

He  listened  while  Agafya  Mikhailovna  told  how  Prokhor 
had  forgotten  God,  and,  instead  of  buying  a  horse  with  the 
money  which  Levin  had  given  him,  had  taken  it  and  gone  on 
a  spree,  and  beaten  his  wife  almost  to  death  :  and  while  he 
listened  he  read  his  book,  and  again  caught  the  thread  of  his 
thoughts,  awakened  by  his  reading.  It  was  a  book  of  Tyn- 
clall,  on  heat.  He  remembered  his  criticisms  on  Tyndall's 
satisfaction  in  speaking  of  the  results  of  his  experiences, 
and  his  lack  of  philosophical  views,  and  suddenly  a  happy 
thought  crossed  his  mind:  "In  two  years  I  shall  have  two 
Holland  cows,  and  perhaps  Pava  herself  wall  still  be  alive, 
and  possibly  a  dozen  of  Berkut's  daughters  will  have  been 
added  to  the  herd!  Splendid!"  And  again  he  picked  up 
his  book.  "  Nu!  veiy  good:  let  us  grant  that  electricity 
and  heat  are  only  one  and  the  same  thing,  but  could  this  one 
quantity  stand  in  the  equations  used  to  settle  this  question? 
No.  What  then  ?  The  bond  between  all  the  forces  of  na- 
ture is  felt,  like  instinct.  .  .  .  When  Pocino's  daughter 
grows  into  a  cow  with  red  and  white  spots,  what  a  herd  I 


106  ANNA   KARtiNlNA. 

shall  have  with  those  three !  Admirable  !  And  my  wife 
and  I  will  go  out  with  our  guests  to  see  the  herd  come  in  ; 
.  .  .  and  my  wife  will  say,  '  Kostia  and  I  have  brought  this 
calf  up  just  like  a  child.'  — '  How  can  this  interest  you  so? ' 
the  guest  will  say.  '  All  that  interests  him  interests  me 
also.'  .  .  .  But  who  will  she  be?"  and  he  began  to  think 
of  what  had  happened  in  Moscow. —  "Nu!  What  is  to  be 
done  about  it?  I  am  not  to  blame.  But  now  every  thing 
will  be  different.  It  is  foolishness  to  let  one's  past  life  dom- 
inate the  present.  One  must  struggle  to  live  better  —  much 
better."  .  .  .  He  raised  his  head,  and  sank  into  thought. 
Old  Laska,  who  had  not  yet  got  over  her  delight  at  seeing  her 
master,  was  barking  up  and  down  the  court.  She  came  into 
the  room,  wagging  her  tail,  and  bringing  the  freshness  of  the 
open  air,  and  thrust  her  head  under  his  hand,  and  begged  for 
a  caress,  whining  plaintively. 

"He  almost  talks,"  said  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna :  "he  is 
only  a  dog,  but  he  knows  just  as  well  that  his  master  has 
come  home,  and  is  sad." 

"Why  sad?" 

"  Da!  don't  I  see  it,  bdtiusJika?  It's  time  I  knew  how 
to  read  my  masters.  Grew  up  with  my  masters  since  they 
were  children  !  No  matter,  bdUuahka :  with  good  health  and 
a  pure  conscience  "  — 

Levin  looked  at  her  earnestly,  in  astonishment  that  she  so 
divined  his  thoughts. 

"And  shall  I  give  you  some  more  tea?"  said  she  ;  and 
she  went  out  with  the  cup. 

Laska  continued  to  nestle  her  head  in  her  master's  hand. 
He  caressed  her,  and  then  she  curled  herself  up  around  his 
feet,  laying  her  head  on  one  of  her  hind-paws  ;  and  as  a  proof 
that  all  was  arranged  to  suit  her,  she  opened  her  mouth  a 
little,  let  her  tongue  slip  out  between  her  aged  teeth,  and, 
with  a  gentle  puffing  of  her  lips,  gave  herself  up  to  beatific 
repose.  Levin  followed  all  of  her  movements. 

"  So  will  I !  "  he  said  to  himself ;  "  so  will  I !  all  will  be 
well!" 

XXVIII. 

ON  the  morning  after  the  ball,  Anna  Arkad}*evna  sent  her 
husband  a  telegram,  announcing  that  she  was  going  to  leave 
Moscow  that  day. 


ANNA   KAKtiNINA.  107 

"No,  I  must,  I  must  go,"  she  said  to  her  sister-in-law, 
in  explanation  of  her  change  of  plan,  and  her  tone  signified 
that  she  had  just  remembered  something  that  demanded  her 
instant  attention.  "  No,  it  would  be  much  better  to-day." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  dined  out,  but  he  agreed  to  get  back 
at  seven  o'clock  to  escort  his  sister  to  the  train. 

Kitty  did  not  put  in  an  appearance,  but  sent  word  that 
she  had  a  headache.  Doll}'  and  Anna  dined  alone  with  the 
children  and  the  English  maid.  It  was  either  because  the 
children  were  fickle  or  very  quick-witted,  and  felt  instinct- 
ively that  Anna  was  not  at  all  as  she  had  been  on  the  day 
of  her  arrival  when  they  had  taken  so  kindly  to  her,  that 
they  suddenly  ceased  playing  with  their  aunt,  seemed  to 
lose  their  affection  for  her,  and  cared  very  little  that  she 
was  going  away.  Anna  spent  the  whole  morning  in  making 
the  preparations  for  her  departure.  She  wrote  a  few  notes 
to  her  Moscow  acquaintances,  settled  her  accounts,  and 
packed  her  trunks.  It  seemed  to  Dolly  that  she  was  now  at 
rest  in  her  mind,  and  that  this  mental  agitation,  which  Dolly 
knew  from  experience,  arose,  not  without  excellent  reason, 
from  dissatisfaction  with  herself.  After  dinner  Anna  went 
to  her  room  to  dress,  and  Dolly  followed  her. 

"  How  strange  you  are  to-day  !  "  said  Dolly. 

"I?  You  think  so?  I  am  not  strange,  but  I  am  cross. 
This  is  common  with  me.  I  should  like  to  have  a  good  cry. 
It  is  very  silly,  but  it  will  pass  away,"  said  Anna,  speaking 
quickly,  and  hiding  her  blushing  face  in  a  little  bag  where 
she  was  packing  her  toilet  articles  and  her  handkerchiefs. 
Her  eyes  shone  with  tears  which  she  could  hardly  keep  back. 
' k  I  was  so  loath  to  come  away  from  Petersburg,  and  now  I 
don't  want  to  go  back  !  " 

"You  came  here  and  you  did  a  lovely  thing,"  said  Dolly, 
attentively  observing  her. 

Anna  looked  at  her  with  eyes  wet  with  tears. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Dolly.  I  have  done  nothing,  and  could 
do  nothing.  I  often  ask  myself  why  people  say  things  to 
spoil  me.  What  have  I  done?  What  could  I  do?  You 
found  that  your  heart  had  enough  love  left  to  forgive." 

"  Without  3'ou,  God  knows  what  would  have  been  !  How 
fortunate  you  are,  Anna  !  "  said  Dolly.  "  All  is  serene  and 
pure  in  your  soul." 

"  Every  one  has  a  skeleton  in  his  closet,  as  the  English 
say." 


108  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

"What  skeletons  have  you,  pray?  In  you  every  thing  is 
serene." 

'"I  have  mine!"  cried  Anna  suddenly;  and  an  unex- 
pected, crafty,  mocking  smile  hovered  over  her  lips  in  spite 
of  her  tears. 

"  Nil!  in  your  case  the  skeletons  must  be  droll  ones,  and 
not  grievous,"  replied  Doll}7  with  a  smile. 

"  No  :  they  are  grievous  !  Do  you  know  why  I  go  to-day, 
and  not  to-morrow?  This  is  a  confession  which  weighs  me 
down,  but  I  wish  to  make  it,"  said  Anna  decidedly,  sitting 
down  in  an  arm-chair,  and  looking  Dolly  straight  in  the  eyes. 

And  to  her  astonishment  she  saw  that  Anna  was  blushing, 
even  to  her  ears,  even  to  the  dark  curls  that  played  about 
the  back  of  her  neck. 

"  Da!  "  Anna  proceeded.  "  Do  }'ou  know  why  Kitty  did 
not  come  to  dinner?  She  is  jealous  of  me.  I  spoiled  —  it 
was  through  me  that  the  ball  last  night  was  a  torment  and 
not  a  joy  to  her.  But  truly,  truly,  I  was  not  to  blame,  —  or 
not  much  to  blame,"  said  she,  with  a  special  accent  on  the 
word  nemn6zliko  [not  much] . 

"Oh,  how  exactly  you  said  that  like  Stiva !  "  remarked 
Dolly,  laughing. 

Anna  was  vexed.  "Oh,  no!  Oh,  no!  I  am  not  like 
Stiva,"  said  she,  frowning.  "  I  have  told  you  this,  simply 
because  I  do  not  allow  myself,  for  an  instant,  to  doubt  my- 
self." 

But  the  very  moment  that  she  said  these  words,  she  per- 
ceived how  untrue  they  were  :  she  not  only  doubted  herself, 
but  she  felt  such  emotion  at  the  thought  of  Vronsky  that  she 
took  her  departure  sooner  than  she  otherwise  would,  so  that 
she  might  not  meet  him  again. 

"Yes,  Stiva  told  me  that  you  danced  the  mazurka  with 
him,  and  he  "  — 

"You  cannot  imagine  how  singularly  it  turned  out.  I 
thought  only  to  help  along  the  match,  and  suddenly  it  went 
exactly  opposite.  Perhaps  against  my  will,  I  "  — 

She  blushed,  and  did  not  finish  her  sentence. 

"  Oh  !  these  things  are  felt  instantly,"  said  Dolly. 

"  But  I  should  be  in  despair  if  I  felt  that  there  could  be 
any  thing  serious  on  his  part,"  interrupted  Anna  ;  "  but  I  am 
convinced  that  all  will  be  quickly  forgotten,  and  that  Kitty 
will  not  long  be  angry  wilh  me." 

"  In  the  first  place,  Anna,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  should  not  be 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  109 

very  sorry  if  this  marriage  fell  through.  It  would  be  vastly 
better  for  it  to  stop  right  here  if  Vrousky  can  fall  in  love 
with  you  in  a  single  day." 

"  Achl  Bozhe  moi!  that  would  be  so  idiotic  !  "  said  Anna, 
and  again  an  intense  blush  of  satisfaction  overspread  her 
face  at  hearing  the  thought  that  occupied  her  expressed  in 
words.  "  And  that  is  why  I  go  away,  though  I  have  made 
an  enemy  of  Kitty  whom  1  loved  so  dearly.  But  you  will 
arrange  that,  Dolly  ?  Da  ?' ' 

Dolly  could  hardly  refrain  from  smiling.  She  loved  Anna, 
but  it  was  not  unpleasant  to  discover  that  she  also  had  her 
weaknesses. 

"An  enemy?     That  cannot  be  !" 

"  And  I  should  have  been  so  glad  to  have  you  all  love  me 
as  I  love  you  ;  but  now  1  love  you  all  more  than  ever,"  said 
Anna  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  "  Ach!  how  absurd  I  am  to- 
day!" 

She  passed  her  handkerchief  over  her  eyes,  and  began  to 
get  ready. 

At  the  very  moment  of  depai'ture  came  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  with  rosy,  happy  face,  and  smelling  of  wine  and  cigars. 

Anna's  tender-heartedness  had  communicated  itself  to 
Dolly,  who,  as  she  kissed  her  for  the  last  time,  whispered, 
"  Think,  Anna  !  what  you  have  done  for  me,  I  shall  never 
forget.  And  think  that  I  love  you,  and  always  shall  love 
you  as  my  best  friend  !  " 

"  I  don't  understand  why,"  replied  Anna,  kissing  her,  and 
struggling  with  her  tears.  "  You  have  understood  me,  and 
you  do  understand  me.  ProsJicha'i  [good-by],  my  dearest." 


XXIX. 

"  Nu!  all  is  over.  Thank  the  Lord!"  was  Anna's  first 
thought  after  she  had  said  good-by  to  her  brother,  who  had 
blocked  up  the  entrance  to  the  coach,  even  after  the  third 
bell  had  rung.  She  sat  down  on  the  little  sofa  next  An- 
nushka,  her  maid,  and  began  to  examine  the  feebly  lighted 
compartment.  ''Thank  the  Lord!  to-morrow  I  shall  see 
Serozha  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  and  my  good  and 
commonplace  life  will  begin  again  as  of  old." 

With  the  same  agitation  of  mind  that  had  possessed  her 
all  day,  Anna  attended  most  minutely  to  the  preparations  for 


110  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

the  journey.  With  her  skilful  little  hands  she  opened  her 
red  bag,  and  took  out  a  pillow,  placed  it  on  her  knees, 
wrapped  her  feet  warmly,  and  composed  herself  comfortably. 
A  lady,  who  seemed  to  be  an  invalid,  had  already  gone  to 
sleep.  Two  other  ladies  entered  into  conversation  ;  and  a  fat, 
elderly  dame,  well  wrapped  up,  began  to  criticise  the  temper- 
ature. Anna  exchanged  a  few  words  with  the  ladies,  but, 
not  taking  any  interest  in  their  conversation,  asked  Annushka 
for  her  travelling-lamp,  placed  it  on  the  back  of  her  seat, 
and  took  from  her  bag  a  paper-cutter  and  an  English  novel. 
At  first  she  could  not  read  ;  the  going  and  coming  disturbed 
her;  when  once  the  train  had  started,  she  could  not  help  lis- 
tening to  the  noises :  the  snow  striking  against  the  window, 
and  sticking  to  the  glass ;  the  conductor,  as  he  passed  with 
the  snowflakes  melting  on  his  coat ;  the  conversation  carried 
on  by  her  travelling  companions,  who  were  talking  about  the 
storm,  — all  distracted  her  attention.  Afterwards  it  became 
more  monotonous :  always  the  same  jolting  and  jarring,  the 
same  snow  on  the  window,  the  same  sudden  changes  from, 
warmth  to  cold,  and  back  to  warmth  again,  the  same  faces  in 
the  dim  light,  and  the  same  voices.  And  Anna  began  to 
read,  and  to  follow  what  she  was  reading.  Annushka  was 
already  asleep,  holding  her  little  red  bag  on  her  knees  with 
great,  clumsy  hands,  clad  in  gloves,  one  of  which  was  torn. 
Anna  read,  and  understood  what  she  read  ;  but  the  reading, 
that  is,  the  necessity  of  entering  into  the  lives  of  other  people, 
became  intolerable  to  her.  .She  had  too  keen  a  desire  to 
live  herself.  She  read  how  the  heroine  of  her  story  took 
care  of  the  sick  :  she  would  have  liked  to  go  with  noiseless 
steps  into  the  sick-room.  She  read  how  an  M.  P.  made  a 
speech :  she  would  have  liked  to  make  that  speech.  She 
read  how  Lady  Mary  rode  horseback,  and  astonished  every 
one  by  her  boldness :  she  would  have  liked  to  do  the  same. 
But  she  could  do  nothing ;  and  with  her  little  hands  she 
clutched  the  paper-cutter,  and  forced  herself  to  read  calmly. 
The  hero  of  her  novel  had  reached  the  summit  of  his  Eng- 
lish ambition,  —  a  baronetcy  and  an  estate  ;  and  Anna  felt  a 
desire  to  go  and  visit  this  estate,  when  suddenly  it  seemed  to 
her  that  he  ought  to  feel  a  sense  of  shame,  and  that  she 
ought  to  share  it.  But  why  should  he  feel  ashamed?  kt  Why 
should  I  feel  ashamed?  "  she  demanded  of  herself  with  aston- 
ishment and  discontent.  She  closed  the  book,  and,  leaning 
back  against  the  chair,  held  the  paper-cutter  tightly  in  both 


ANNA  KAR&NDTA.  Ill 

hands.  There  was  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  :  she  reviewed 
all  her  memories  of  her  visit  to  Moscow  ;  they  were  all  pleas- 
ant and  good.  She  remembered  the  ball,  she  remembered 
Vronsky  and  his  humble  and  passionate  face,  she  recalled 
her  relations  with  him  :  there  was  nothing  to  warrant  a  blush. 
And  yet  in  these  reminiscences  the  sentiment  of  shame  was 
a  growing  factor ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  that  inward  voice, 
whenever  she  thought  of  Vrousky,  seemed  to  say,  "  Warmly, 
very  warmly,  passionately."  .  .  .  "Nil!  what  is  this ?"  she 
asked  herself  resolutely,  as  she  changed  her  position  in  the 
chair.  "  What  does  this  mean?  Am  I  afraid  to  face  these 
memories?  Nu!  what  is  it?  Is  there,  can  there  be,  any  rela- 
tionship between  that  boy-officer  and  me  beyond  what  exists 
between  all  the  members  of  society?  "  She  smiled  disdain- 
fully, and  betook  herself  to  her  book  again  ;  but  it  was  evi- 
dent that  she  did  not  any  longer  comprehend  what  she  was 
reading.  She  rubbed  her  paper-cutter  over  the  frost-covered 
pane,  and  then  pressed  her  cheek  against  its  cool,  smooth 
surface,  and  then  she  almost  laughed  out  loud  with  the  joy 
that  suddenly  took  possession  of  her.  She  felt  her  nerves 
grow  more  and  more  excited,  her  eyes  open  wider  and  wider, 
her  fingers  clasped  convulsively,  something  seemed  to  choke 
her,  and  objects  and  sounds  assumed  an  exaggerated  impor- 
tance in  the  semi-obscurity  of  the  car.  She  kept  asking 
herself  at  every  instant,  if  they  were  going  backwards  or 
forwards,  or  if  the  train  had  come  to  a  stop.  Was  Annush- 
ka  there,  just  in  front  of  her,  or  was  it  a  stranger?  "•  What 
is  that  on  the  hook?  —  fur,  or  an  animal?  And  what  am  I? 
Am  I  myself,  or  some  one  else?  "  She  was  frightened  at  her 
own  state  ;  she  felt  that  her  will-power  was  leaving  her ;  and, 
in  order  to  regain  possession  of  her  faculties,  Anna  arose, 
took  her  plaid  and  her  fur  collar,  and  thought  that  she  had  con- 
quered herself,  for  at  this  moment  a  tall,  thin  muzhik,  dressed 
in  along  nankeen  overcoat,  which  lacked  a  button,  came  in, 
and  she  recognized  in  him  the  istopnik  (stove-tender).  She 
saw  him  look  at  the  thermometer,  and  noticed  how  the  wind 
and  the  snow  came  blowing  in  As  he  opened  the  door ;  and 
then  every  thing  became  confused.  The  tall  peasant  began 
to  draw  fantastic  figures  on  the  wall ;  the  old  lady  seemed  to 
stretch  out  her  legs,  and  fill  the  whole  car  as  with  a  black 
cloud  ;  then  she  thought  she  heard  a  strange  thumping  and 
rapping,  a  noise  like  something  tearing ;  then  a  red  and 
blinding  fire  flashed  in  her  eyes,  and  then  all  vanished  in 


112  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

darkness.  Anna  felt  as  if  she  had  fallen  from  a  height. 
But  these  sensations  were  not  at  all  alarming,  but  rather 
pleasant.  The  voice  of  a  man  all  wrapped  up,  and  covered 
with  snow,  shouted  something  in  her  ear.  She  started  up, 
recovered  her  wits,  and  perceived  that  they  were  approach- 
ing a  station,  and  the  man  was  the  conductor.  She  bade 
Annushka  bring  her  shawl  and  fur  collar,  and,  having  put 
them  on,  she  went  to  the  door. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  go  out?  "  asked  Annushka. 

"Yes:  I  want  to  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  Very  hot 
here." 

And  she  opened  the  door.  The  snow-laden  wind  opposed 
her  passage  ;  and  she  had  to  exert  herself  to  open  the  door, 
which  seemed  amusing  to  her.  The  storm  seemed  to  be 
waiting  for  her,  eager  to  carry  her  away,  as  it  gayly  whistled 
by  ;  but  she  clung  to  the  cold  railing  with  one  hand,  and,  hold- 
ing her  dress,  she  stepped  upon  the  platform,  and  left  the 
car.  The  wind  was  not  so  fierce  under  the  shelter  of  the 
station,  and  she  found  a  genuine  pleasure  in  filling  her  lungs 
with  the  frosty  air  of  the  tempest.  Standing  near  the  car 
she  watched  the  platform  and  the  station  gleaming  with 
lights. 

XXX. 

A  FURIOUS  storm  was  raging,  and  drifting  the  snow  between 
the  wheels  of  the  cars,  and  into  the  corners  of  the  station. 
The  cars,  the  pillars,  the  people,  everything  visible,  were  cov- 
ered on  one  side  with  snow.  A  few  people  were  running 
hither  and  thither,  opening  and  shutting  the  great  doors  of 
the  station,  talking  ga}'ly,  and  making  the  planks  of  the  walk 
creak  under  their  feet.  The  shadow  of  a  man  passed  rap- 
idly by  her,  and  she  heard  the  blows  of  a  hammer  falling  on 
the  iron. 

"  Let  her  go,"  cried  an  angry  voice  on  the  other  side  of 
the  track. 

"•This  way,  please,  No.  28,"  cried  other  voices,  and  sev- 
eral people  covered  with  snow  hurried  by.  Two  gentlemen, 
with  lighted  cigarettes  in  their  mouths,  passed  near  Anna. 
She  was  just  about  to  re-enter  the  car,  after  getting  one 
more  breath  of  fresh  air,  and  had  already  taken  her  hand 
from  her  muff,  to  lay  hold  of  the  railing,  when  the  flickering 
light  from  the  reflector  was  cut  off  by  a  man  in  a  military 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  113 

coat,  who  came  close   to  her.     She  looked   up,  and   in  an 
instant  recognized  Vronsky's  face. 

He  saluted  her,  carrying  his  hand  to  the  visor,  and  then 
asked  respectfully  if  there  was  not  some  way  in  which  he 
might  be  of  service  to  her. 

Anna  looked  at  him  for  some  moments  without  ability  to 
speak :  although  they  were  in  the  shadow,  she  saw,  or 
thought  that  she  saw,  in  his  eyes  the  expression  of  enthusi- 
astic ecstasy  which  had  struck  her  on  the  evening  of  the 
ball.  How  many  times  had  she  said  to  herself  that  Vronsky, 
for  her,  was  only  one  of  the  young  people  whom  one  meets' 
by  the  hundred  in  society,  and  who  would  never  cause  her 
to  give  him  a  second  thought !  and  now,  on  the  first  instant 
of  seeing  him  again,  a  sensation  of  triumphant  joy  seized 
her.  It  was  impossible  to  ask  why  he  was  there.  She  knew, 
as  truly  as  though  he  had  told  her,  that  it  was  because  she 
was  there. 

"I  did  not  know  that  you  were  coming.  Why  did  you 
come?"  said  she.  letting  her  hand  fall  from  the  railing.  A 
joy  that  she  could  not  restrain  shone  in  her  face. 

'k  Why  did  I  come?"  he  repeated,  looking  straight  into 
her  eyes.  u  You  know  that  I  came  simply  for  this,  —  to  be 
where  yon  are,"  he  said.  "  I  could  not  do  otherwise." 

And  at  this  instant  the  wind,  as  though  it  had  conquered 
every  obstacle,  drove  the  snow  from  the  roof  of  the  car, 
and  tossed  in  triumph  a  birch-leaf  which  it  had  torn  off, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive  gave  a 
melancholy,  mournful  cry.  Never  had  the  horror  of  a  tern- 
pest  appeared  to  her  more  beautiful  than  now.  She  had  just 
beard  what  her  reason  feared,  but  which  her  heart  longed  to 
hear.  She  made  no  reply,  but  he  perceived  by  her  face  how 
she  fought  against  herself. 

"  Forgive  me  if  what  I  said  displeases  you,"  he  murmured 
humbly. 

He  spoke  respectfully,  but  in  such  a  resolute,  decided  tone, 
that  for  some  time  she  was  unable  to  reply. 

"  What  you  said  was  wrong ;  and  1  beg  of  you,  if  you  are 
a  gentleman,  to  forget  it,  as  I  shall  forget  it." 

kt  I  shall  never  forget,  and  I  shall  never  be  able  to  forget 
an}*  of  your  words,  any  of  your  gestures  " — 

"  Enough,  enough  !  "  she  cried,  vainly  endeavoring  to  give 
an  expression  of  severity  to  her  face,  at  which  he  was  pas- 
sionately gazing.  And  helping  herself  by  the  cold  railing, 


114  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

she  quickly  mounted  the  steps,  and  entered  the  car.  But  she 
stopped  in  the  little  entry,  and  tried  to  recall  to  her  imagi- 
nation what  had  taken  place.  She  found  it  impossible  to 
bring  back  the  words  that  had  passed  between  them  ;  but  she 
felt  that  that  brief  conversation  had  brought  them  closer  to- 
gether, and  she  was  at  once  startled  and  delighted.  At 
the  end  of  a  few  seconds,  she  went  back  to  her  place  in  the 
car. 

The  nervous  strain  which  tormented  her"  became  more  in- 
tense, until  she  began  to  fear  that  every  moment  something 
would  snap  within  her  brain.  She  did  not  sleep  all  night : 
but  in  this  nervous  tension,  aud  in  the  fantasies  which  filled 
her  imagination,  there  was  nothing  disagreeable  or  painful ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  was  joyous,  burning  excitement. 

Toward  morning,  Anna  dozed  as  she  sat  in  her  arm-chair ; 
and  when  she  awoke  it  was  bright  daylight,  and  the  train 
was  approaching  Petersburg.  The  thought  of  her  home,  her 
husband,  her  son,  and  all  the  little  labors  of  the  day  and  the 
coming  da}'s,  filled  her  mind. 

The  train  had  hardly  reached  the  station  at  Petersburg, 
when  Anna  stepped  upon  the  platform ;  and  the  first  person 
that  she  saw  was  her  husband  waiting  for  her. 

" Achl  Bozhe  moi !  Why  are  his  ears  so  long?"  she 
thought,  as  she  looked  at  his  reserved  but  distinguished  face, 
and  was  struck  by  the  lobes  of  his  ears  protruding  from 
under  the  lappets  of  his  round  cap.  When  he  saw  her,  he 
came  to  meet  her  at  the  car,  with  his  habitual  smile  of 
irony,  looking  straight  at  her  with  his  great,  weary  eyes.  A 
disagreeable  thought  oppressed  her  heart  when  she  saw  his 
stubborn,  weary  look.  She  felt  that  she  had  expected  to 
find  him  different.  Not  only  was  she  dissatisfied  with  her- 
self, but  she  confessed  to  a  certain  sense  of  hypocrisy  in  her 
relations  with  her  husband.  This  feeling  was  not  novel :  she 
had  felt  it  before  without  heeding  it,  but  now  she  recognized 
it  clearly  and  with  distress. 

"  Da!  you  see,  I'm  a  tender  husband,  tender  as  the  first 
year  of  our  marriage  :  I  was  burning  with  desire  to  see  you," 
said  he,  in  his  slow,  deliberate  voice,  aud  with  the  light  tone 
of  raillery  that  he  generally  used  in  speaking  to  her,  a  tone 
of  ridicule,  as  if  any  one  could  speak  as  he  had  done. 

"  Is  Serozha  well?  "  she  demanded. 

"  And  is  this  all  the  reward,"  he  said,  "for  my  ardor? 
He  is  well,  very  well." 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  115 


XXXI. 

VRONSKY  had  not  even  attempted  to  sleep  all  that  night. 
He  sat  in  his  arm-chair,  with  eyes  wide  open,  looking  with 
perfect  indifference  at  those  who  came  in  and  went  out ;  for 
him,  men  were  of  no  more  account  than  things.  People  who 
were  ordinarily  struck  by  his  imperturbable  dignity,  would 
have  found  him  now  tenfold  more  haughty  and  unapproacha- 
ble. A  nervous  young  man,  an  employe  of  the  district  court, 
sitting  near  him  in  the  car,  detested  him  on  account  of  this 
aspect.  The  young  man  did  his  best  to  make  him  appreciate 
that  he  was  an  animated  object ;  he  asked  for  a  light,  he 
spoke  to  him,  he  even  touched  him :  but  Vronsky  looked  at 
him  as  though  he  had  been  the  reflector.  And  the  young 
man,  with  a  grimace,  thought  that  he  should  lose  command  of 
himself  to  be  so  ignored  by  Vronsky. 

Vronsky  saw  nothing,  heard  nothing.  He  felt  as  though 
he  were  a  tsar,  not  because  he  saw  that  he  had  made  an  impres- 
sion upon  Anna,  —  he  did  not  fully  realize  that,  as  yet,  —  but 
because  of  the  power  of  the  impression  which  she  had  made 
on  him,  and  which  filled  him  with  happiness  and  pride. 

What  would  be  the  result  of  this,  he  did  not  know,  and  did 
not  even  consider ;  but  he  felt  that  all  his  powers,  which  had 
been  dissipated  and  scattered  hitherto,  were  now  tending 
with  frightful  rapidity  towards  one  beatific  focus.  As  he  left 
his  compartment  at  Bologoi,  to  get  a  glass  of  seltzer,  he  saw 
Anna,  and  almost  from  the  first  word  had  told  her  what  he 
thought.  And  he  was  glad  that  he  had  spoken  as  he  did ; 
glad  that  she  knew  all  now,  and  was  thinking  about  it. 
Returning  to  his  car,  he  recalled,  one  by  one,  all  his  memo- 
ries of  her,  the  words  that  she  had  spoken,  and  his  imagina- 
tion painted  the  possibility  of  a  future  which  overwhelmed 
his  heart. 

On  reaching  Petersburg,  he  dismounted  from  the  car,  and 
in  spite  of  a  sleepless  night  felt  as  fresh  and  vigorous  as 
though  he  had  just  enjoyed  a  cold  bath.  He  stood  near  his 
car,  waiting  to  see  her  pass.  "  I  will  see  her  once  more," 
he  said  to  himself  with  a  smile.  4t  I  will  see  her  graceful 
bearing ;  perhaps  she  will  speak  a  word  to  me,  will  look  at 
me,  smile  upon  me."  But  it  was  her  husband  whom  first  he 
saw,  politely  escorted  through  the  crowd  by  the  station-mas- 
ter. "  Ach  !  da  !  the  husband  !  "  And  then  Vronskv  for  the 


116  ANNA   KAE&N1NA. 

first  time  got  a  realizing  sense  that  he  was  an  important  factor 
in  Anna's  life.  He  knew  that  she  had  a  husband,  but  had 
never  realized  the  fact  until  now,  when  he  saw  his  head, 
his  shoulders,  and  his  legs  clothed  in  black  pantaloons,  and 
especially  when  he  saw  him  unconcernedly  go  up  to  Anna, 
and  take  her  hand  as  though  he  had  the  right  of  possession. 

The  sight  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  with  his  Petersburg- 
ish-fresh  face,  and  his  solid,  self-confident  figure,  his  round 
cap,  and  his  slightly  stooping  shoulders,  confirmed  the  fact, 
and  filled  him  with  the  same  sensation  that  a  man  dying  of 
thirst  experiences,  who  discovers  a  fountain,  but  finds  that  a 
dog,  a  sheep,  or  a  pig  has  been  roiling  the  water.  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch's  stiff  and  heavy  gait  was  exceedingly  dis- 
tasteful to  Vronsky.  He  did  not  acknowledge  that  any  one 
besides  himself  had  the  right  to  love  Anna.  When  she 
appeared,  the  sight  of  her  filled  him  with  physical  exultation. 
She  had  not  changed,  and  his  soul  was  touched  and  moved. 
He  ordered  his  German  body-servant,  who  came  hunying  up 
to  him  from  the  second-class  car,  to  see  to  the  baggage ;  and 
while  he  was  on  his  way  towards  her,  he  witnessed  the  meet- 
ing between  husband  and  wife,  and,  with  a  lover's  intuition, 
perceived  the  shade  of  constraint  with  which  Anna  greeted 
her  husband.  "  No,  she  does  not  love  him,  and  she  cannot 
love  him,"  was  his  mental  judgment. 

As  he  joined  them,  he  noticed  with  joy  that  she  felt  his 
approach,  and  was  glad,  and  that  she  recognized  him, 
though  she  went  on  talking  with  her  husband. 

"Did  you  have  a  good  night?"  said  he,  when  he  was 
near  enough,  and  bowing  to  her,  but  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
include  the  husband,  and  allow  AlekseT  Aleksandrovitch  the 
opportunity  to  acknowledge  the  salute,  and  recognize  him,  if 
it  seemed  good  to  him  so  to  do. 

"Thank  you,  very  good,"  she  replied. 

Her  face  expressed  weariness,  and  her  eyes  and  smile 
lacked  their  habitual  animation  ;  but  the  moment  she  saw 
Vronsky,  something  flashed  into  her  eyes,  and,  notwithstand-* 
ing  the  fact  that  the  fire  instantly  died  away,  he  was  overjoyed 
even  at  this.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  her  husband,  to  see 
whether  he  knew  Vronsky.  Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch  looked 
at  him  with  displeasure,  vaguely  remembering  who  he  was. 
Vronsky's  calm  self-assurance  struck  upon  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitrh's  cool  superciliousness  as  a  feather  on  a  rock. 

"  Count  Vronsky,"  said  Anna. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  117 

"Ah!  "We  have  met  before,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Alek- 
sei  Aleksandrovitch  with  indifference,  extending  his  hand. 
"  Went  with  the  mother,  and  came  home  with  the  son,"  said 
he,  speaking  with  precision,  as  though  his  words  were  worth 
a  ruble  apiece.  k>  Back  from  a  furlough,  probably?  "  And 
without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  turned  to  his  wife,  in  his 
ironical  tone,  "  Did  they  shed  many  tears  in  Moscow  to 
have  you  leave  them?  " 

His  manner  toward  his  wife  told  Vronsk}1  that  he  wanted 
to  be  left  alone,  and  the  impression  was  confirmed  when  he 
touched  his  hat,  and  turned  from  him ;  but  Vronsky  still 
remained  with  Anna. 

"  I  hope  to  have  the  honor  of  calling  upon  you,"  said  he. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  with  weary  eyes,  looked  at  Vron- 
sky. "  Very  happy,"  he  said  coldly  :  "we  receive  on  Mon- 
days." Then,  leaving  Vronsky  entirely,  he  said  to  his  wife, 
still  in  a  jesting  tone,  "  And  how  fortunate  that  I  happened 
to  have  a  spare  half-hour  to  come  to  meet  you,  and  show 
you  my  tenderness." 

"  You  emphasize  your  affection  too  much  for  me  to  appre- 
ciate it,"  replied  Anna,  in  the  same  spirit  of  raillery, 
although  she  was  listening  involuntarily  to  Vronsky's 
steps  behind  them.  "  But  what  is  that  to  me?"  she  asked 
herself  in  thought.  Then  she  began  to  ask  her  husband 
how  Serozha  had  got  along  dijring  her  absence. 

"Oh!  excellently.  Mariette  says  that  he  has  been  very 
good,  and — I  am  sorry  to  have  to  tell  you  —  that  he  did  not 
seem  to  miss  you  —  not  so  much  as  your  husband.  But  again, 
merci,  my  dear,  that  you  came  a  day  earlier.  Our  dear  Sam- 
ovar will  be  delighted."  He  called  the  celebrated  Countess 
Lidia  Ivanovna  by  the  nickname  of  the  Samovar  (tea-urn), 
because  she  was  alwaj-s  and  everywhere  bubbling  and  boiling. 
"  She  has  kept  asking  after  you  ;  and  do  you  know,  if  I 
make  bold  to  advise  you,  you  would  do  well  to  go  to  see  her 
to-day.  You  see,  her  heart  is  always  sore  on  your  account. 
At  present,  besides  her  usual  cares,  she  is  greatly  concerned 
about  the  reconciliation  of  the  Oblonskys." 

The  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  was  a  friend  of  Anna's  hus- 
band, and  the  centre  of  a  certain  circle  in  Petersburg  soci- 
ety, to  which  Anna,  on  her  husband's  account,  more  than 
for  any  other  reason,  belonged. 

"  Da!  But  didn't  I  write  her?  " 

"  She  expects  to  have  all  the  details.      Go   to   her,  my 


118     •  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

dear,  if  you  are  not  too  tired.  Na  !  Kondrato  will  call  your 
carriage,  and  I  am  going  to  a  committee-meeting.  I  shall 
not  have  to  dine  alone  this  time,"  continued  Alekse'i  Alek- 
sandrovitch,  not  in  jest  this  time.  "  You  cannot  imagine 
how  used  I  am  to  .  .  ." 

And  with  a  peculiar  smile,  giving  her  a  long  pressure  of 
the  hand,  he  led  her  to  the  carriage. 


XXXII. 

THE  first  face  that  Anna  saw  when  she  reached  home  was 
her  son's.  Rushing  down  the  stairs,  in  spite  of  his  nurse's 
reproof,  he  hastened  to  meet  her  with  a  cry  of  joy. 
"  Mamma  !  mamma  !  "  and  sprang  into  her  arms. 

"  I  told  you  it  was  mamma !  "  he  shouted  to  the  governess. 
11 1  knew  it  was  !  " 

But  the  son,  no  less  than  the  husband,  awakened  in  Anna 
a  feeling  like  disillusion.  She  imagined  him  better  than  he 
was  in  reality.  She  was  obliged  to  descend  to  the  reality  in 
order  to  look  upon  him  as  he  was.  But  in  fact,  he  was 
lovely,  with  his  curly  head,  his  blue  eyes,  and  his  pretty  plump 
legs  in  their  neatly  fitting  stockings.  She  felt  an  almost 
physical  satisfaction  in  feeling  him  near  her,  and  in  his 
caresses,  and  a  moral  calm  in  ^  looking  into  his  tender,  con- 
fiding, loving  eyes,  and  in  hearing  his  childish  questions. 
She  unpacked  the  gifts  sent  him  by  Dolly's  children,  and 
told  him  how  there  was  a  little  girl  in  Moscow,  named  Tania, 
and  how  this  Tania  knew  how  to  read,  and  was  teaching  the 
other  children  to  read. 

"  Am  I  not  as  good  as  she?  " 

"•  For  me,  you  are  worth  all  the  rest  of  the  world." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Serozha,  smiling. 

Anna  had  hardly  finished  her  coffee,  when  the  Countess 
Lidia  Ivanovuawas  announced.  The  countess  was  a  robust, 
stout  woman,  with  an  unhealthy,  sallow  complexion,  and 
handsome,  dreamy  black  eyes.  Anna  liked  her,  but  to-day, 
as  for  the  first  time,  she  seemed  to  see  her  with  all  her  faults. 

"  Nn !  my  dear,  did  you  carry  the  olive-branch  ?  "  demanded 
the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna,  as  she  entered  the  room. 

"  Yes  :  it  is  all  made  up,"  replied  Anna  ;  "  but  it  was  not 
so  bad  as  we  thought.  As  a  general  thing,  my  belle-sceur  is 
too  hasty." 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  119 

But  the  Countess  Liclia,  who  was  interested  in  all  that  did 
not  specially  concern  herself,  had  the  habit  of  sometimes  not 
heeding  what  did  interest  her.  She  interrupted  Anna. 

'•  Da!  This  world  is  full  of  woes  and  tribulations,  and  I 
am  all  worn  out  to-day." 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  Anna,  striving  to  repress  a  smile. 

"  I  am  beginning  to  weary  of  the  useless  strife  for  the 
right,  and  sometimes  I  am  utterly  discouraged.  The  work 
of  the  Little  Sisters  [this  was  a  philanthropical  and  reli- 
giously patriotic  institution]  is  getting  along  splendidly,  but 
there  is  nothing  to  be  done  with  these  men,"  added  the 
Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna,  with  an  air  of  ironical  resignation 
to  fate.  ''They  get  hold  of  an  idea,  they  mutilate  it,  and 
then  they  judge  it  so  meanly,  so  wretchedly.  Two  or  three 
men,  your  husband  among  them,  understand  all  the  meaning 
of  this  work  ;  but  the  others  ouly  discredit  it.  Yesterday 
Pravdin  wrote  me  " — 

Pravdin  was  a  famous  Panslavist,  who  lived  abroad,  and 
the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  related  what  he  had  said  in  his 
letter.  Then  she  went  on  to  describe  the  troubles  and  snares 
which  blocked  the  work  of  uniting  the  churches,  and  finally 
departed  in  haste,  because  it  was  the  day  for  her  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  meeting  of  some  society  or  other,  and  at  the  sit- 
ting of  the  Slavonic  Committee. 

"  All  this  used  to  exist,  but  why  did  I  never  notice  it  be- 
fore ? ' '  said  Anna  to  herself.  l '  Was  she  very  irritable  to-day  ? 
But  at  any  rate,  it  is  ridiculous  :  her  aims  are  charitable,  she 
is  a  Christian,  and  yet  she  is  angry  with  everybody,  and 
everybody  is  her  enemy  ;  and  yet  all  her  enemies  are  working 
for  Christianity  and  charity." 

After  the  departure  of  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna,  came 
a  friend,  the  wife  of  a  direktor,  who  told  her  all  the  news  of 
the  city.  At  three  o'clock  she  went  out,  promising  to  be 
back  in  time  for  dinner.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  was  at 
the  meeting  of  the  ministry.  The  hour  before  dinner,  which 
Anna  spent  alone,  she  employed  sitting  with  her  son,  —  who 
ate  apart  from  the  others,  —  in  arranging  her  things,  and  in 
catching  up  in  her  correspondence,  which  was  in  arrears. 

The  sensation  of  causeless  shame,  and  the  trouble  from 
which  she  had  suffered  so  strangely  during  her  journey,  now 
completely  disappeared.  Under  the  conditions  of  her  ordi- 
nary every-day  life,  she  felt  calm,  and  free  from  reproach, 
and  she  was  surprised  as  she  recalled  her  condition  of  the 


120  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

night  before.  "  What  was  it?  Nothing.  Vronsky  said  a 
foolish  thing,  to  which  it  is  idle  to  give  an}'  further  thought. 
To  speak  of  it  to  my  husband  is  worse  than  useless.  To 
speak  about  it  would  seem  to  attach  too  much  importance  to 
it."  And  she  recalled  a  trifling  episode  which  had  occurred 
between  her  and  a  young  subordinate  of  her  husband's  in 
Petersburg,  and  how  she  had  felt  called  upon  to  tell  him 
about  it,  and  how  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  told  her  that  as 
she  went  into  society,  she,  like  all  society  women,  might  ex- 
pect such  experiences,  but  that  he  had  too  much  confidence 
in  her  tact  to  allow  his  jealousy  to  humiliate  her  or  himself. 
"  Why  tell,  then?  Besides,  I  have  nothing  to  tell." 


XXXIII. 

ALEKSEI  ALEKSANDROVITCII  returned  from  the  ministry 
about  four  o'clock,  but,  as  often  happened,  he  found  no  time 
to  speak  to  Anna.  He  went  directly  to  his  library  to  give 
audience  to  some  petitioners  who  were  waiting  for  him,  and 
to  sign  some  papers  brought  him  by  his  chief  secretary. 

The  Karenius  always  had  at  least  three  visitors  to  dine 
with  them  ;  and  to-day  there  came  an  old  lady,  a  cousin  of 
Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch's,  a  department  director  with  his 
wife,  and  a  young  man  recommended  to  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch for  employment.  Anna  came  to  the  drawing-room  to 
receive  them.  The  great  bronze  clock,  of  the  time  of  Peter 
the  Great,  had  just  finished  striking  five,  when  Aleks6i  Alek- 
sandrovitch, in  white  cravat,  and  with  two  decorations  on  his 
dress-coat,  left  his  dressing-room  :  he  had  an  engagement 
immediately  after  dinner.  Every  moment  of  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch's life  was  counted  and  occupied,  and,  in  order 
to  accomplish  what  he  had  to  do  every  day,  he  was  forced  to 
use  the  strictest  regularity  and  punctuality.  "  Without 
haste,  and  without  rest,"  was  his  motto.  He  entered  the 
salon,  bowed  to  his  guests,  and,  giving  his  wife  a  smile,  led 
the  way  to  the  table. 

"Da!  my  solitude  is  over.  You  don't  realize  how  irk- 
some [he  laid  a  special  stress  on  the  word  nelovko,  irksome] 
it  is  to  dine  alone  !  " 

During  the  dinner  he  talked  with  his  wife  about  matters 
in  Moscow,  and,  with  his  mocking  smile,  inquired  especially 
about  Stepau  Arkadyevitch ;  but  the  conversation  remained 


ANNA   KARflNINA.  121 

for  the  most  on  common  subjects,  about  Petersburg  society, 
and  matters  connected  with  the  government.  After  dinner 
he  spent  a  half-hour  with  his  guests,  and  then  giving  his 
wife  another  smile,  and  pressing  her  hand,  he  left  the  room, 
and  went  to  the  council.  Anna  did  not  go  this  evening  to 
the  Princess  Betsy  Tverskai'a's,  who.  having  heard  of  her  arri- 
val, had  sent  her  an  invitation  ;  and  she  did  not  go  to  the 
theatre,  where  she  just  now  had  a  box.  She  did  not  go  out, 
principally  because  a  dress,  which  she  had  expected,  was  not 
done.  After  the  departure  of  her  guests,  Anna  investigated 
her  wardrobe,  and  was  much  disturbed  to  find  that  of  the 
three  dresses,  which  in  a  spirit  of  economy  she  had  given  to 
the  dressmaker  to  make  over,  and  which  ought  to  have  been 
done  three  days  ago,  two  were  absolutely  unfinished,  and 
one  was  done  in  a  way  that  Anna  did  not  like.  The  dress- 
maker came  with  her  excuses,  declaring  that  it  would  be 
better  so,  and  Anna  reprimanded  her  so  severely  that  after- 
wards she  felt  ashamed  of  herself.  To  calm  her  agitation, 
she  went  to  the  nursery,  and  spent  the  evening  with  her  son, 
put  him  to  bed  herself,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  him, 
and  tucked  the  quilt  about  him.  She  was  glad  that  she  had 
not  gone  out,  and  that  she  had  spent  such  a  happy  evening. 
It  was  so  quiet  and  restful,  and  now  she  saw  clearly  that  all 
that  had  seemed  so  important  during  her  railway  journey 
was  only  one  of  the  ordinary  insignificant  events  of  social 
life,  —  that  she  had  nothing  in  the  world  of  which  to  be 
ashamed.  She  sat  down  in  front  of  the  fireplace  with  her 
English  novel,  and  waited  for  her  husband.  At  half-past 
nine  exactly  his  ring  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  he  came  into 
the  room. 

"Here  you  are,  at  last,"  she  said,  giving  him  her  hand. 
He  kissed  her  hand,  and  sat  down  near  her. 

"  Your  journey,  I  see,  was  on  the  whole  very  successful," 
said  he. 

"  Yes,  very,"  she  replied  ;  and  she  began  to  relate  all  the 
details  —  her  journey  with  the  old  countess,  her  arrival,  the 
accident  at  the  station,  the  pity  which  she  had  felt,  first  for  her 
brother,  and  afterwards  for  Dolly. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  it  is  possible  to  pardon  such  a  man, 
even  though  he  is  your  brother,"  said  Aleks6i  Aleksandro- 
vitch  severely. 

Anna  smiled.  She  appreciated  that  he  said  this  to  show 
that  not  even  kinship  could  bend  him  from  the  strictness 


122  ANNA  KAKtiNINA. 

of  his  honest  judgment.  She  knew  this  trait  in  her  husband's 
character,  and  liked  it. 

"I  am  glad,"  he  continued,  "that  all  ended  so  satisfac- 
torily, and  that  you  have  come  home  again.  Nu!  what  do 
they  say  there  about  the  new  measures  that  I  introduced  in 
the  council?  " 

Anna  had  heard  nothing  said  about  this  new  measure,  and 
she  was  confused  because  she  had  so  easily  forgotten  some- 
thing which  to  him  was  so  important. 

'•Here,  on  the  contrary,  it  has  made  a  great  sensation," 
said  he,  with  a  self-satisfied  smile. 

She  saw  that  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  wanted  to  tell  her 
something  very  flattering  to  himself  about  this  affair,  and,  by 
means  of  questions,  she  led  him  up  to  the  story.  And  he, 
with  the  same  self-satisfied  smile,  began  to  tell  her  of  the 
congratulations  which  he  had  received  on  account  of  this 
measure,  which  had  been  passed. 

"  I  was  very,  very  glad.  This  proves  that  at  last,  reason- 
able and  serious  views  about  this  question  are  beginning  to  be 
formed  among  us."  After  he  had  taken  his  second  cup  of 
tea,  with  cream  and  bread,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  arose  to 
go  to  his  library. 

u  But  you  did  not  go  out :  was  it  ver}'  tiresome  for  you?  " 
he  said. 

"Oh,  no!"  she  replied,  rising  with  her  husband,  and 
going  with  him  through  the  hall  to  the  library. 

"  What  are  you  reading  now?  "  she  asked. 

"  Just  now  I  am  reading  the  Due  do  Lille  —  Poesie  des 
en/ens,"  he  replied,  —  "a  very  remarkable  book." 

Anna  smiled,  as  one  smiles  at  the  weaknesses  of  those  we 
love,  and,  passing  her  arm  through  her  husband's,  accompa- 
nied him  to  the  library-door.  She  knew  that  his  habit  of 
reading  in  the  evening  had  become  inexorable,  and  that 
notwithstanding  his  absorbing  duties,  which  took  so  much  of 
his  time  at  the  council,  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  follow  all  that 
seemed  remarkable  in  the  sphere  of  literature.  She  also 
knew,  that  while  he  felt  a  special  interest  in  works  on  politi- 
cal economy,  philosophy,  and  religion,  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch allowed  no  book  on  art  which  seemed  to  him  to  possess 
any  value,  to  escape  his  notice,  and  for  the  very  reason  that  art 
was  contrary  to  his  nature.  She  knew  that  in  the  province 
of  political  economy,  philosophy,  religion,  Aleksei  Alek- 
saudrovitch  had  doubts,  and  tried  to  solve  them ;  but  in 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  123 

questions  of  art  or  poetry,  particularly  in  music,  the  compre- 
hension of  which  was  utterly  beyond  him,  he  had  the  most 
precise  and  definite  opinions.  He  loved  to  speak  of  Shak- 
speare,  Raphael,  and  Beethoven  ;  of  the  importance  of  the  new 
school  of  musicians  and  poets,  —  all  of  whom  were  classed  by 
him  according  to  the  most  rigorous  logic. 

"  Ntt!  God  be  with  you,"  she  said,  as  they  reached  the 
door  of  the  library,  where  were  standing,  as  usual,  near  her 
husband's  arm-chair,  the  shade-lamp  already  lighted,  and  a 
car<tfe  with  water.  "And  I  am  going  to  write  to  Moscow." 

Again  he  pressed  her  hand,  and  kissed  it. 

"•  Taken  all  in  all,  he  is  a  good  man  ;  upright,  excellent, 
remarkable  in  his  sphere,"  said  Anna  to  herself,  on  her  way 
to  her  room,  as  though  she  felt  it  necessary  to  defend  him  from 
some  one  who  accused  him  of  not  being  lovable. 

"  But  why  do  his  ears  stick  out  so?  Or  does  he  cut  his 
hair  too  short  ?  ' ' 

It  was  just  midnight,  and  Anna  was  still  sitting  at  her 
writing-table  finishing  a  letter  to  Dolly,  when  Aleks6i  Alek- 
sandrovitch's  steps  were  heard  :  he  wore  his  slippers  and  dress- 
ing-gown ;  he  had  had  his  bath,  and  his  hair  was  brushed. 
His  book  was  under  his  arm  :  he  stopped  at  his  wife's  room. 

"•  Late,  late,"  said  he,  with  his  usual  smile,  and  passed  on 
to  their  sleeping-room. 

"And  what  right  had  he  to  look  at  him  so?"  thought 
Anna,  recalling  Vronsky's  expression  when  he  saw  Aleks6i 
Aleksandrovitch.  Having  undressed,  she  went  to  her  room  ; 
but  in  her  face  there  was  none  of  that  animation  which  shone 
in  her  eyes  and  in  her  smile  at  Moscow.  On  the  contrary, 
the  fire  had  either  died  away,  or  was  somewhere  far  away  and 
out  of  sight. 

XXXIV. 

ON  leaving  Petersburg,  Vronsky  had  installed  his  beloved 
friend  and  comrade,  Petritsky,  in  his  ample  quarters  on  the 
Morska'ia.  Petritsky  was  a  young  lieutenant,  not  partic- 
ularly distinguished,  and  not  only  not  rich,  but  over  ears  in 
debt.  Every  evening  he  came  home  tipsy,  and  he  spent  much 
of  his  time  at  the  police  courts,  in  search  of  strange  or  amus- 
ing or  scandalous  stories  ;  but  in  spite  of  all  he  was  a  favor- 
ite with  his  comrades  and  his  chiefs.  About  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  when  Vrousky  reached  home  after  his  jour- 


124  ANNA 

ne}',  he  saw  at  the  entrance  an  izvoshchik's  carriage,  which 
he  knew  very  well.  From  the  door,  when  he  rang,  he  heard 
men's  laughter  and  the  lisping  of  a  woman's  voice,  and  Pe- 
tritsky  shouting,  "  If  it's  an}-  of  those  villains,  don't  let  'em 
in."  Vronsky,  not  allowing  his  denshchiJc  to  announce  his 
presence,  quietly  entered  the  ante-room.  The  Baroness  Shil- 
ton,  a  friend  of  Petritsky's,  shining  in  a  lilac  satin  robe,  and 
with  her  little  pink  face,  was  making  coffee  before  a  round 
table,  and,  like  a  canary-bird,  was  filling  the  room  with  her 
Parisian  slang.  Petritsky  in  his  overcoat,  and  Captain  Kam- 
erovsky  in  full  uniform,  apparently  to  help  her,  were  sitting 
near  her. 

"Bravo,  Vronsky  !  "  cried  Petritsky,  leaping  up,  and  over- 
turning the  chair.  "The  master  himself.  Baronessa ,  cof- 
fee for  him  from  the  new  biggin  !  We  did  not  expect  you. 
I  hope  that  you  are  pleased  with  the  new  ornament  in  your 
library,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  baroness.  "You  are  ac- 
quainted ? ' ' 

"I  should  think  so!"  said  Vronsky,  smiling  gayly,  and 
squeezing  the  baroness's  dainty  little  hand.  "  We're  old 
friends." 

"Are  you  back  from  a  journey?"  asked  the  baroness. 
"Then  I'm  off.  Ach!  I  am  going  this  minute  if  I  am  in 
the  way." 

"You  are  at  home  wherever  you  are,  baronessa,"  said 
Vronsky.  "How  are  you,  Kamerovsky?"  coolly  shaking 
hands  with  the  captain. 

"Vot!  you  would  never  be  able  to  say  such  lovely  things 
as  that,"  said  the  baroness  to  Petritsky. 

"No?  Why  not?  After  dinner  I  could  say  better 
things!" 

"After  dinner  there's  no  more  merit  in  them.  Nu!  I 
will  make  your  coffee  while  you  go  and  wash  your  hands  and 
brush  off  the  dust,"  said  the  baroness,  again  sitting  down, 
and  turning  industriously  the  handle  of  the  new  coffee-mill. 
"Pierre,  bring  some  more  coffee,"  said  she  to  Petritsky, 
whom  she  called  Pierre,  after  his  family  name,  to  show  her 
intimacy  with  him.  "  I  will  add  it." 

"You  will  spoil  it." 

"No!  I  won't  spoil  it.  Nu!  and  your  wife?"  said  the 
baroness,  suddenly  interrupting  Vronsky's  remarks  to  his 
companions.  "We  have  been  marrying  you  off.  Did  you 
bring  your  wife?" 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  125 

"  No,  baronessa.  I  was  born  a  Bohemian,  and  I  shall  die 
a  Bohemian." 

"So  much  the  better,  so  much  the  better:  give  us  your 
hand  !  " 

And  the  baroness,  without  letting  him  go,  began  to  talk 
with  him,  developing  her  various  plans  of  life,  and  asking 
his  advice  with  many  jests. 

"  He  will  never  be  willing  to  let  me  have  a  divorce.  Nu! 
What  am  I  to  do?  [He  was  her  husband.]  I  now  mean  to 
institute  a  law-suit.  What  should  you  think  of  it  ?  Kame- 
rovsky.  just  watch  the  coffee  !  It's  boiling  over.  You  see 
how  well  I  understand  business  !  I  mean  to  begin  a  law-suit 
to  get  control  of  my  fortune.  Do  you  understand  this  non- 
sense? Under  the  pretext  that  I  have  been  unfaithful,  he 
means  to  get  possession  of  my  estate." 

Vronsky  listened  with  amusement  to  this  gay  prattle  of 
the  pretty  woman,  approved  of  what  she  said,  gave  his  ad- 
vice, and  assumed  the  tone  he  usually  affected  with  women  of 
her  character.  In  his  Petersburg  world,  humanity  was  di- 
vided into  two  absolutely  distinct  categories,  —  the  one  of  a 
low  order,  trivial,  stupid,  and  above  all  ridiculous,  people, 
declaring  that  one  husband  ought  to  live  with  one  wedded 
wife,  that  girls  should  be  virtuous,  women  chaste,  men 
brave,  temperate,  and  unshaken,  occupied  in  bringing  up 
their  children  decently,  in  earning  their  bread,  and  paying 
their  debts,  and  other  such  absurdities.  This  kind  of  people 
were  old-fashioned  and  dull.  But  the  other  and  vastly  su- 
perior class,  to  which  he  and  his  friends  belonged,  required 
that  its  members  should  be,  above  all,  elegant,  generous,  bold, 
gay,  shamelessly  unrestrained  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  and 
scornful  of  all  the  rest. 

Vronsky,  still  under  the  influence  of  his  totally  different 
life  in  Moscow,  was  at  first  almost  stunned  at  the  change ; 
but  soon,  and  as  naturally  as  one  puts  on  old  slippers,  he  got 
into  the  spirit  of  his  former  gay  and  jovial  life. 

The  coffee  was  never  served ;  it  boiled  over,  and  wet  a 
costly  table-cloth  and  the  baroness's  dress ;  but  it  served  the 
end  that  was  desired,  for  it  gave  rise  to  many  jests  and 
merry  peals  of  laughter. 

'•  Nu!  now  I  am  going,  for  you  will  never  get  dressed,  and 
I  shall  have  on  my  conscience  the  worst  crime  that  a  decent 
man  can  commit,  — that  of  not  taking  a  bath.  So  you  advise 
me  to  put  the  knife  to  his  throat?  " 


126  ANNA    KAKtiNINA. 

"  By  all  means,  and  in  such  a  way  that  your  little  hand 
will  come  near  his  lips.  He  will  kiss  your  little  hand,  and 
all  will  end  to  everybody's  satisfaction,"  said  Vronsky. 

"This  evening  at  the  Thedtre  Fmn$ais,"  and  she  took 
her  departure  with  her  rustling  train. 

Kamerovsky  likewise  arose,  but  Vronsky,  without  waiting 
for  him  to  go,  shook  hands  with  him,  and  went  to  his  dress- 
ing-room. While  he  was  taking  his  bath,  Petritsky  sketched 
for  him  in  a  few  lines  how  his  situation  had  changed  during 
Vronsky's  absence,  —  no  money  at  all;  his  father  declaring 
that  he  would  not  give  him  any  more,  or  pay  a  single  debt. 
One  tailor  determined  to  have  him  arrested,  and  a  second  no 
less  determined.  His  colonel  insisted  that  if  these  scandals 
continued,  he  should  leave  the  regiment.  A  duel  was  on 
with  Berkoshef,  and  he  wanted  to  send  him  his  seconds,  but 
he  guessed  nothing  would  come  of  it.  As  for  the  rest,  every 
thing  was  getting  along  particularly  jolly.  And  then,  with- 
out leaving  Vronsky  time  to  realize  the  situation,  Petritsky 
began  to  retail  the  news  of  the  day.  Petritsky's  well-known 
gossip,  his  familiar  room,  and  where  he  had  lived  for  three 
years,  all  his  surroundings,  contributed  to  bring  Vronsky 
back  into  the  current  of  his  gay  and  idle  Petersburg  life, 
and  he  felt  a  certain  pleasure  in  renewing  the  sensation. 

"  It  cannot  be  !  "  he  cried,  as  he  turned  on  the  faucet  of 
his  wash-basin,  in  which  he  was  washing  his  handsome, 
healthy  neck:  "it  cannot  be!"  he  cried.  He  had  just 
learned  that  Laura  was  now  under  Fertinghof's  protection. 
"  And  is  he  as  stupid  and  as  conceited  as  ever?  Nu!  and 
Buzulukof?" 

"  Achl  Buzulukof!  that's  a  whole  history,"  said  Petritsky. 
"  You  know  his  passion,  —  balls  ;  and  he  never  misses  one  at 
court.  At  the  last  one  he  went  in  a  new  helmet.  Have  you 
seen  the  new  helmets?  Very  handsome,  very  light.  Well, 
he  was  standing —  No;  but  listen." 

"Yes,  I  am  listening,"  replied  Vronskj-,  rubbing  his  face 
with  a  towel. 

"  The  Grand  Duchess  was  just  going  by  on  the  arm  of  some 
foreign  ambassador  or  other,  and  unfortunately  for  him  con- 
versation turned  on  the  new  helmets.  The  Grand  Duchess 
wanted  to  point  out  one  of  the  new  helmets,  and,  seeing  our 
galitbchik  standing  there  [here  Petritsky  showed  how  he 
stood  in  his  helmet],  she  begged  him  to  show  her  his  hel- 
met. He  did  not  budge.  What  does  it  mean  ?  The  fellows 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  127 

wink  at  him,  make  signs,  scowl  at  him.  '  Give  it  to  her.' 
He  does  not  stir.  Pie  is  like  a  dead  man.  You  can  imagine 
the  scene  !  Now  —  as  he  —  then  they  attempt  to  take  it  off. 
He  does  not  stir.  At  last  he  himself  takes  it  off,  and  hands 
it  to  the  Grand  Duchess. 

"  '  This  is  the  new  kind,'  said  the  Grand  Duchess.  Bui, 
as  she  turned  it  over,  —  you  can  imagine  it,  — out  came,  buJch  ! 
pears,  bon-bons,  —  two  pounds  of  bon-bons!  He  had  been  to 
market,  galubchik!  " 

Yronsky  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh  ;  and  long  afterwards, 
even  when  speaking  of  other  things,  the  memory  of  the 
unfortunate  helmet  caused  him  to  break  out  into  his  good- 
natured  laugh  which  showed  his  handsome,  regular  teeth. 

Having  learned  all  the  news,  Vrousky  donned  his  uniform 
with  the  aid  of  his  valet,  and  went  out  to  report  himself. 
Then  he  determined  to  call  on  his  brother,  on  the  Princess 
Betsy,  and  to  make  a  series  of  calls,  so  as  to  secure  an  entry 
into  the  society  where  he  should  be  likely  to  see  the  Karen- 
ins  ;  and  in  accordance  with  the  usual  custom  at  Petersburg, 
he  left  his  rooms,  expecting  to  return  only  when  it  was  very 
late  at  night. 


128  ANNA   KARtiNlNA. 


PART  II. 

I. 

TOWARDS  the  close  of  the  winter  the  Shcherbatskys  held  a 
consultation  of  physicians  in  regard  to  Kitty's  health :  she 
was  ill,  and  the  approach  of  spring  only  increased  her  ail- 
ment. The  family  doctor  had  ordered  cod-liver  oil,  then 
iron,  and  last  of  all,  nitrate  of  silver ;  but  as  none  of  these 
remedies  did  any  good,  he  advised  them  to  take  her  abroad. 

It  was  then  resolved  to  consult  a  celebrated  specialist. 
This  celebrity,  still  a  young  man,  and  very  neat  in  his  per- 
sonal appearance,  insisted  on  a  careful  investigation  of  the 
trouble  ;  and  as  all  the  other  doctors  who  belonged  to  the 
same  school,  studied  the  same  books,  and  consequently  held 
the  same  ideas,  had  decided  that  this  specialist  possessed 
the  necessary  skill  to  save  Kitty,  his  request  was  granted. 
After  a  careful  examination  and  a  prolonged  use  of  the 
stethoscope  on  the  lungs  of  the  poor,  trembling  girl,  the  cele- 
brated physician  carefully  washed  his  hands,  and  returned  to 
the  drawing-room.  The  prince,  with  a  little  cough,  listened 
to  what  he  had  to  say,  and  frowned.  He  himself  had 
never  been  sick,  and  he  had  no  faith  in  doctors.  Moreover 
he  was  a  man  of  common  sense,  and  was  all  the  more  angry 
at  this  comedy,  because  possibly  he  alone  understood  what 
ailed  his  daughter.  "A  regular  humbug,"  thought  the  old 
prince,  and  mentally  applied  to  the  celebrated  doctor  a 
hunting  expression,  which  signifies  a  man  who  has  not  had 
any  luck,  but  comes  home  with  large  stories.  The  latter,  on 
his  side,  with  difficulty  stooping  to  the  low  level  of  this  old 
gentleman's  intelligence,  barely  disguised  his  disdain.  It 
scarcely  seemed  to  him  necessary  to  speak  to  the  poor  old 
man,  since,  in  his  eyes,  the  head  of  the  house  was  the  prin- 
cess. He  was  ready  to  pour  out  before  her  all  the  floods  of 
his  eloquence ;  and,  as  she  came  in  at  this  moment  with  the 


ANNA   KAKtiNINA.  129 

family  doctor,  the  old  prince  left  the  room,  so  as  not  to 
show  too  clearly  what  he  thought  about  it  all.  The  princess 
was  troubled,  and  did  not  know  what  course  to  take.  She 
felt  a  little  guilty  in  regard  to  Kittj*. 

"  Nu!  Doctor,  decide  upon  our  fate:  tell  me  all."  She 
wanted  to  say,  "  Is  there  any  hope?  "  but  her  lips  trembled, 
and  she  hesitated.  "  Na!  tell  us." 

"I  shall  be  at  your  service,  princess,  after  I  have  con- 
ferred with  my  colleague.  We  shall  then  have  the  honor  of 
giving  you  our  opinion." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  be  alone?  " 

"Just  as  you  please." 

The  princess  sighed,  and  left  the  room. 

The  family  doctor  timidly  expressed  his  opinion  about  her 
condition,  and  gave  his  reasons  for  thinking  that  it  was  the 
beginning  of  tubercular  disease  because  —  and  because  —  and 
et  ccetera.  The  celebrated  physician  listened,  and  in  the  midst 
of  his  diagnosis  took  out  his  great  gold  watch. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  but  "  — 

His  colleague  stopped  respectfully. 

"  You  know  that  it  is  hardly  possible  to  decide  when 
tubercular  disease  first  begins.  In  the  present  case,  one  can 
only  suspect  this  trouble  from  the  presence  of  such  symptoms 
as  indigestion,  nervousness,  and  others.  The  question, 
therefore,  stands  thus :  what  is  to  be  done,  granting  that  a 
tubercular  development  is  to  be  feared,  in  order  to  superin- 
duce improved  alimentation?" 

"  But  you  know  well,  that  there  is  back  of  all  some  men- 
tal reason,"  said  the  family  doctor,  with  a  cunning  smile. 

"Of  course,"  replied  the  celebrated  doctor,  looking  at  his 
watch  again.  "Excuse  me,  but  do  you  know  whether  the 
bridge  over  the  Yausa  is  finished  yet,  or  whether  one  has  to 
go  around?" 

"It  is  finished." 

"  Da!  Then  I  have  only  twent}'  minutes  left.  —  We  were 
just  saying  that  the  question  remains  thus :  to  improve  the 
digestion,  and  strengthen  the  nerves  ;  the  one  cannot  go  with- 
out the  other,  and  it  is  necessary  to  act  on  the  two  halves  of 
the  circle." 

"  But  the  journey  abroad?  " 

"  I  am  opposed  to  these  journeys  abroad.  —  I  beg  you  to 
follow  my  reasoning.  If  tubercular  development  has  already 
set  in,  which  we  are  not  yet  iu  a  condition  to  prove,  what 


130  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

good  would  travel  do?  The  main  thing  is  to  discover  a 
means  of  promoting  good  digestion."  And  the  celebrated 
doctor  began  to  develop  his  plan  for  a  cure  by  means  of 
Soden  water,  the  principal  merits  of  which  were,  in  his  eyes, 
their  absolutely  inoffensive  character. 

The  family  doctor  listened  with  attention  and  respect. 

"  But  I  should  urge  in  favor  of  a  journey  abroad  the 
change  of  her  habits  and  the  dissociations  from  the  condi- 
tions that  serve  to  recall  unhappy  thoughts.  And,  finally, 
her  mother  wants  her  to  go." 

"  Ah!  nu!  in  that  case  let  them  go,  provided  always  that 
those  German  quacks  do  not  aggravate  her  disease.  They 
must  follow  my  prescriptions  with  the  most  absolute  strict- 
ness. Nu!  let  them  travel." 

And  again  he  looked  at  his  watch. 

"It  is  time  for  me  to  go;"  and  he  started  for  the 
door. 

The  celebrated  doctor  assured  the  princess  that  he  wished 
to  see  the  invalid  once  more  —  it  was  probably  through  a 
sentiment  of  social  propriety. 

"What!  have  another  examination?"  cried  the  princess, 
with  horror. 

"  Oh,  no  !  only  a  few  minor  points,  princess." 

"  Then  come  in,  I  beg  of  you." 

And  the  mother  ushered  the  doctor  into  Kitty's  little  bou- 
doir. The  poor,  emaciated  girl  was  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  with  flushed  cheeks,  and  eyes  brilliant  with  the 
excitement  caused  by  the  doctor's  visit.  When  she  saw 
them  coming  back,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  blushed 
still  more  crimson.  Her  illness  and  the  remedies  which  she 
was  obliged  to  endure  seemed  to  her  such  ridiculous  non- 
sense. What  did  these  remedies  mean?  It  was  like  gather- 
ing up  the  fragments  of  a  broken  vase  in  order  to  make  it 
whole  again.  Her  heart  was  broken,  and  could  it  be  restored 
to  health  by  pills  and  powders  ?  But  she  did  not  dare  to  go 
against  her  mother's  judgment,  the  more  because  she  felt 
that  she  herself  had  been  to  blame. 

"Will  3'ou  sit  down,  princess?"  said  the  celebrated 
doctor. 

He  sat  down  in  front  of  her,  felt  her  pulse,  and  with  a 
smile  began  a  series  of  wearisome  questions.  At  first  she 
replied  to  them,  then  suddenly  arose  impatiently. 

"  Excuse  me,  doctor,  but,  indeed,  this  all  leads  to  nothing. 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  131 

This  is  the  third  time  that  you  have  asked  me  the  same 
question." 

The  celebrated  doctor  took  no  offence. 

"  It  is  her  nervous  irritability,"  he  remarked  to  the  prin- 
cess when  Kitty  had  gone  from  the  room.  "  However,  I 
was  through." 

And  the  celebrated  doctor  explained  the  young  girl's 
condition  to  her  mother,  treating  her  as  a  person  of  remark- 
able intelligence,  and  giving  her,  finally,  the  most  precise 
directions  as  to  the  method  of  drinking  those  mineral  waters, 
whose  virtue,  in  his  eyes,  consisted  in  their  uselessness.  As 
to  the  question,  "Is  it  best  to  take  her  abroad?"  the  cele- 
brated doctor  pondered  deeply,  and  the  result  of  his  reflec- 
tions was  that  they  might  travel  on  condition  that  they  would 
not  trust  any  quacks,  and  would  follow  his  prescriptions. 

After  the  doctor's  departure,  everybody  felt  as  if  some 
great  good  fortune  had  happened.  The  mother,  in  much 
better  spirits,  rejoined  her  daughter,  and  Kitty  declared  that 
she  was  better  already.  It  often  seemed  necessary  of  late 
for  her  to  hide  what  she  really  felt. 

"Truly,  I  feel  better,  merman,  but  if  you  desire  it,  let 
us  go,"  said  she;  and  in  her  endeavou to  show  what  inter- 
est she  took  in  the  journey,  she  began  to  speak  of  their 
preparations. 

H. 

DOLLY  knew  that  the  consultation  was  to  take  place  that 
day  ;  and  though  she  was  scarcely  yet  able  to  go  out,  having 
had  a  little  daughter  towards  the  end  of  the  winter,  and 
although  one  of  the  other  children  was  sick,  she  left  them 
both  in  order  to  learn  what  Kitty's  fate  should  be. 

"  Nu!  how  is  it?  "  she  said,  as  she  came  in  with  her  bon- 
net on.  "  You  are  all  happy  !  Then  all  is  well." 

They  endeavored  to  tell  her  what  the  doctor  had  said  ;  but 
though  it  had  been  a  long  discourse,  couched  in  very  beau- 
tiful language,  no  one  was  able  to  give  the  gist  of  it.  The 
interesting  point  was  the  decision  in  regard  to  the  journey. 

Dolly  sighed  involuntarily.  She  was  going  to  lose  her 
sister,  her  best  friend ;  and  life  for  her  was  not  joyous. 
Her  relations  with  her  husband  seemed  to  her  more  and 
more  humiliating  :  the  reconciliation  brought  about  by  Anna 
had  not  been  of  long  duration,  and  the  family  discords  had 


132  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

become  as  unpleasant  as  ever.  Stepan  Arkady evitch  was 
scarcely  ever  at  home,  and  there  was  scarcely  ever  any  money 
in  the  house.  The  suspicion  that  he  was  still  unfaithful  to 
her  ever  tormented  her ;  hut  as  she  remembered  with  horror 
the  sufferings  caused  by  her  jealousy,  and  desired  above  all 
things  not  to  break  up  the  family,  she  preferred  to  shut  her 
eyes  to  his  deception.  But  she  despised  her  husband,  and 
despised  herself  because  of  her  feebleness.  And,  moreover, 
the  cares  of  a  numerous  family  were  a  heavy  load. 

"  And  how  are  the  children?  "  asked  the  princess. 

"  Adi,  maman!  we  have  so  many  tribulations.  Lili  is 
sick  a-bed,  and  I  am  afraid  that  she  is  going  to  have  the 
scarletina.  I  came  out  to-day  to  see  how  you  were,  for  I 
was  afraid  that  after  this  I  should  not  have  a  chance." 

The  old  prince  came  in  at  this  moment,  bent  down  his 
cheek  for  Dolly  to  kiss,  said  a  few  words  to  her,  and  then 
turned  to  his  wife. 

"  What  decision  have  you  come  to?  Shall  you  go?  Nul 
and  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?  " 

"  I  think,  Aleksandr,  that  you  had  better  stay  at  home." 

"  Just  as  you  please." 

"  Maman,  why  doesn't  papa  come  with  us?"  said  Kitty. 
"  It  would  be  gayer  for  him  and  for  us." 

The  old  prince  smoothed  Kitty's  hair  with  his  hand :  she 
raised  her  head,  and  with  an  effort  smiled  as  she  looked  at 
him  ;  she  felt  that  her  father  alone,  though  he  did  not  say 
much,  understood  her.  She  was  the  youngest,  and  therefore 
her  father's  favorite  daughter,  and  his  love  made  him  clair- 
voyant, as  she  imagined.  When  her  eyes  met  his,  it  seemed 
to  her  that  he  read  her  very  soul,  and  saw  all  the  evil  that 
was  working  there.  She  blushed,  and  bent  towards  him, 
expecting  a  kiss  ;  but  he  contented  himself  with  pulling  her 
hair,  and  saying,  — 

"  These  abominable  chignons!  one  never  gets  down  to  the 
real  daughter.  It  is  always  the  hair  of  some  departed  saint. 
Nu!  Dolinka,"  turning  to  his  eldest  daughter,  "  what  is  that 
trump  of  yours  doing?  " 

"Nothing,  papa,"  said  Dolly,  perceiving  that  her  father 
referred  to  her  husband  :  —  "he  is  always  away  from  home, 
and  I  scarcely  ever  see  him,"  she  could  not  refrain  from 
adding  with  an  ironical  smile. 

"  He  has  not  gone  yet  to  the  country  to  sell  his  wood?" 

"  No :  he  is  always  putting  it  off." 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  133 

"  Truly,"  said  the  old  prince,  "  is  he  taking  after  me?  — 
I  should  think  so,"  he  added  turning  to  his  wife,  and  sitting 
down.  "And  as  for  you,  Katya,"  addressing  his  youngest 
daughter,  "  do  you  know  what  you  ought  to  do?  Some  fine 
morning  when  you  wake  up,  you  ought  to  say,  '•Da!  how 
happy  and  gay  I  feel !  Why  not  resume  my  morning  walks 
with  papa,  now  that  the  cold  is  not  so  bitter  ? '  ha  ?  " 

At  these  simple  words  of  her  father's,  Kitty  felt  as  though 
she  had  been  convicted  of  a  crime.  "Yes,  he  knows  all,  he 
understands  all,  and  these  words  mean  that  I  ought  to  over- 
come my  humiliation,  however  great  it  has  been."  She  had 
not  the  courage  to  reply,  but  burst  into  tears,  and  left  the 
room. 

"  Just  like  your  tricks !  "  said  the  princess  to  her  husband 
angrily.  "You  always" —  And  she  began  one  of  her 
tirades. 

The  prince  received  her  reproaches  at  first  good-humoredly 
but  at  last  his  face  changed  color. 

"She  is  so  sensitive,  poor  little  thing,  so  sensitive!  and 
you  don't  understand  how  she  suffers  at  the  slightest  allusion 
to  the  cause  of  her  suffering.  Ach!  how  mistaken  we  are  in 
people!  "  said  the  princess.  And  by  the  change  in  the  in- 
flection of  her  voice,  Dolly  and  the  prince  perceived  that  she 
had  reference  to  Vrousky. 

"  I  don't  understand  why  there  are  not  any  laws  to  punish 
such  vile,  such  ignoble  actions." 

"  Ach!  do  hear  her,"  said  the  prince,  with  a  frown,  getting 
up  and  going  to  the  door  as  though  he  wanted  to  escape  ;  but 
he  halted  on  the  threshold  and  said,  — 

"There  are  laws,  mdtushka;  and  if  you  force  me  to  ex- 
plain myself,  I  will  tell  }'ou  that  in  all  this  trouble,  you,  you 
alone,  are  the  true  culprit.  There  are  laws  against  these 
young  fops,  and  there  always  will  be  ;  and,  old  man  that  I 
am,  I  should  have  been  able  to  punish  this  barber,  this  villain, 
if  you  had  not  been  the  first  to  invite  him  here.  Da-s!  and 
now  to  cure  her,  show  her  to  these  mountebanks  !  " 

The  prince  would  have  made  a  long  speech  if  the  princess 
had  not  immediately  taken  a  humble  and  submissive  tone,  as 
she  always  did  when  important  matters  came  up. 

"  Alexaudre  !  Alexandre  !  "  she  murmured,  weeping,  and 
going  up  to  him.  The  prince  held  his  peace  when  he  saw 
her  tears.  "  Nu  !  let  it  go,  let  it  go.  I  know  that  it  is  hard 
for  you  also.  Don't  weep  any  more.  —  The  harm  is  not 


134  ANNA   KAKtiNINA. 

great.  God  is  merciful. —  Thank  yon!"  said  he,  not 
knowing  what  he  said  in  his  emotion  ;  and  feeling  on  his 
hand  the  princess's  kiss  bedewed  with  tears,  he  left  the 
room. 

Dolly  with  her  maternal  instinct  would  have  liked  to  fol- 
low Kitty  to  her  chamber,  feeling  sure  that  a  woman's  hand 
would  be  a  relief ;  but  as  she  listened  to  her  mother's  re- 
proaches, and  her  father's  bitter  words,  she  had  felt  the  de- 
sire to  interfere  in  so  far  as  her  filial  respect  allowed.  When 
the  prince  went  out,  she  said,  — 

"  I  have  always  wanted  to  tell  you,  maman;  did  you  know 
that  when  Levin  was  here  the  last  time,  he  intended  to  offer 
himself  to  Kitty?  He  told  Stiva." 

"  Nu!  what?     I  do  not  understand  "  — 

"  Perhaps  Kitty  refused  him.     Didn't  she  tell  you?  " 

"  No,  she  did  not  say  any  thing  to  me  about  either  of 
them  :  she  is  too  proud.  But  I  know  that  all  this  conies 
from  " — 

lt  Yes  ;  but  think  ;  perhaps  she  refused  Levin.  I  know 
that  she  would  not  have  done  so  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
other —  and  then  she  was  so  abominably  deceived." 

The  princess  felt  too  guilty  not  to  affect  indignation. 

"•  Ach!  I  don't  know  any  thing  about  it.  Nowadays 
every  girl  wants  to  live  as  she  pleases,  and  not  to  say  any 
thing  to  her  mother,  and  so  it  comes  that ' ' — 

"  3/araan,  I  am  going  to  see  her." 

u  Go  !  I  will  not  prevent  you,"  said  her  mother. 


III. 

As  she  entered  Kitty's  little  boudoir,  all  furnished  in  pink 
with  vieux  saxe  ware,  Dolly  remembered  with  what  pleasure 
the  two  had  decorated  it  the  year  before  :  how  happy  and 
gay  they  were  then  !  She  felt  a  chill  at  her  heart  as  she  saw 
her  sister  sitting  motionless  on  a  low  chair  near  the  door, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  a  corner  of  the  carpet.  Kitty's  cold  and 
stern  expression  vanished  the  moment  she  saw  her  sister 
come  in. 

"I  am  very  much  afraid  that  when  I  once  get  home,  I 
shall  not  be  able  to  leave  the  house  for  some  time,"  said 
Dolly,  sitting  down  near  her  sister.  "  And  that's  why  I 
wanted  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you.'* 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  135 

"  What  about?  "  asked  Kitty,  quickly  raising  her  head. 

"  What  else  than  about  your  disappointment?  " 

"  I  am  not  disappointed  about  any  thing." 

"  That'll  do,  Kitty.  Do  you  really  imagine  that  I  don't 
know  any  thing  at  all  ?  I  know  every  thing  ;  and  if  you  will 
believe  me,  it's  all  about  nothing  at  all.  Who  of  us  has  not 
been  through  such  experiences?  " 

Kitty  said  nothing,  and  her  face  resumed  its  severe 
expression. 

"  He  is  not  worth  the  trouble  that  you  have  given  yourself 
for  him,"  continued  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  coming  right  to 
the  point. 

"Da!  because  he  jilted  me!"  murmured  Kitty,  with 
trembling  voice.  "  Don't  speak  of  it,  I  beg  of  you  !  " 

u  But  what  did  he  say  to  you?  I  am  sure  that  he  was  in 
love  with  you,  —  that  he  is  still ;  but  " — 

"  Ach!  nothing  exasperates  me  so  as  condolences,"  cried 
Kitty,  in  a  sudden  rage.  Blushing,  she  turned  around  in  her 
chair,  and  with  nervous  fingers  twisted  the  buckle  on  her  belt. 

Dolly  well  knew  this  habit  of  her  sister  when  she  was 
provoked.  She  knew  that  she  was  capable  of  saying  harsh 
and  cruel  things  in  moments  of  petulance,  and  she  tried  to 
calm  her  ;  but  it  was  too  late. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  understand?  what  is  it?  "  cried 
Kitty,  with  quick  words  :  —  "  that  I  am  in  love  with  a  man 
who  does  not  care  for  me,  and  that  I  am  dying  of  love  for 
him  ?  And  it  is  my  sister  who  says  this  to  me  !  —  my  sister 
who  thinks  that — that  —  that  —  she  shows  me  her  sympa- 
thy !  I  hate  such  hypocrisy  and  such  sympathy  !  " 

"  Kitty,  you  are  unjust." 

"  Why  do  you  torment  me?  " 

"  I  did  not  mean  —  I  saw  that  you  were  sad  " — 

Kitty  in  her  anger  did  not  heed  her. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  break  my  heart  over,  and  don't  need 
consolation.  I  am  too  proud  to  love  a  man  who  does  not 
love  me." 

"Da!  I  do  not  say  —  I  say  only  one  thing —  Tell  me 
the  truth,"  added  Daiya  Aleksandrovna,  taking  her  hand. 
"  Tell  me,  did  Levin  speak  to  you?  " 

At  the  name  of  Levin,  Kitty  lost  all  control  of  herself :  she 
jumped  up  from  her  chair,  threw  on  the  floor  the  buckle 
which  she  had  torn  from  her  belt,  and  with  quick,  indignant 
gestures,  cried,  — 


136  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

"  Why  do  you  speak  to  me  of  Levin?  I  really  don't  see 
why  it  is  necessary  for  you  to  torment  me.  I  have  already 
said,  and  I  repeat  it,  that  I  am  proud,  and  never,  never 
would  I  do  what  you  have  done,  —  go  back  to  a  man  who  had 
been  false  to  me,  who  had  made  love  to  another  woman.  I 
do  not  understand  this :  you  can,  but  I  cannot !  " 

As  she  said  these  words,  she  looked  at  her  sister.  Dolly 
bent  her  head  sadly  without  answering  ;  but  Kitty,  instead  of 
leaving  the  room  as  she  had  intended  to  do,  sat  down  near 
the  door  again,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 

The  silence  lasted  several  minutes.  Dolly  was  thinking 
of  her  tribulations.  Her  humiliation,  which  she  felt  only  too 
deeply,  appeared  to  her  more  cruel  than  ever,  thus  recalled 
by  her  sister.  Never  would  she  have  believed  her  capable 
of  being  so  severe.  But  suddenly  she  heard  the  rustling  of 
a  dress,  a  broken  sob,  and  then  two  arms  were  thrown 
around  her  neck.  Kitty  was  on  her  knees  before  her. 

"  Dolinka,  I  am  so  unhappy  !  forgive  me,"  she  murmured  ; 
and  her  pretty  face,  wet  with  tears,  was  hid  in  Dolly's  skirt. 

Possibly  these  tears  were  needed  to  bring  the  two  sisters 
into  complete  harmony  :  however,  after  a  good  cry,  they  did 
not  return  to  the  subject  which  interested  them  both.  Kitty 
knew  that  she  was  forgiven,  but  she  also  knew  that  the  cruel 
words  that  had  escaped  her  in  regard  to  Dolly's  humiliation, 
remained  heavy  on  her  poor  sister's  heart.  Dolly,  on  her 
side,  knew  that  she  had  guessed  correctly,  and  that  the  pain 
Kitty  felt  lay  in  the  fact  that  she  had  refused  Levin,  only  to 
see  herself  deceived  in  Vronsky,  and  that  her  sister  was  on 
the  point  of  loving  the  first,  and  hating  the  other.  Kitty 
spoke  only  of  the  general  state  of  her  soul. 

"  I  am  not  disappointed,"  she  said,  regaining  her  calmness 
a  little  ;  "  but  you  cannot  imagine  how  wretched,  disgusting, 
and  vulgar  every  thing  seems  to  me  —  myself  worse  than  all. 
You  cannot  imagine  what  evil  thoughts  come  into  my  mind." 

'•'•Da!  but  what  evil  thoughts  can  you  have?"  asked 
Dolly,  with  a  smile. 

"The  most  abominable,  the  most  repulsive.  I  cannot 
describe  them  to  you.  It  is  not  melancholy,  and  it  is  not 
weariness.  It  is  much  worse.  One  might  say  that  all  the 
good  that  was  in  me  had  disappeared,  and  only  the  evil  was 
left.  Nu!  how  can  that  be  explained?  "  she  asked,  looking 
at  her  sister.  "Papa  spoke  to  me  a  few  minutes  ago.  It 
seems  to  me  that  he  thinks  of  nothing  else  than  the  need  of 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  137 

getting  me  a  husband.  Mamma  takes  me  to  the  ball.  It 
seems  to  me  that  it  is  for  the  sole  purpose  of  getting  rid  of 
me,  of  getting  me  married  as  soon  as  possible.  I  know  that 
it  is  not  true,  and  yet  I  cannot  drive  away  these  ideas.  So- 
called  marriageable  young  men  are  unendurable  to  me.  I 
always  have  the  impression  that  they  are  summing  me  up. 
Once  I  liked  to  go  into  society ;  it  amused  me ;  I  enjoyed 
preparing  my  toilet ;  now  it  is  a  bore  to  me,  and  I  feel  ill 
at  ease.  Nu!  what?  The  doctor  —  nu  " — 

Kitty  stopped :  she  wanted  to  say  further,  that,  since  she 
had  felt  this  great  change  in  herself,  she  could  no  longer  see 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  without  the  most  extraordinary  and 
unpleasant  conjectures  arising  in  her  mind. 

"  Nu !  da  I  every  thing  takes  a  most  repulsive  aspect  in  my 
sight,"  she  continued.  "It  is  a  disease,  —  perhaps  it  will 
pass  away.  I  do  not  feel  at  ease  except  with  you  and  the 
children." 

"  What  a  pity  that  you  can't  come  home  with  me  now !  " 

"I  will  go  all  the  same.  I  have  had  scarlatina.  I  will 
persuade  maman." 

Kitty  insisted  so  eagerly,  that  she  was  allowed  to  go  with 
her  sister.  Throughout  the  course  of  the  disease,  —  for  it 
proved  to  be  the  scarlatina,  as  Dolly  had  feared,  — she  aided 
her  in  taking  care  of  the  children.  They  soon  entered  upon 
a  happy  convalescence  without  relapses ;  but  Kitty's  health 
did  not  improve,  and  at  Lent  the  Shcherbatskys  went 
abroad. 

IV. 

THE  upper  society  at  Petersburg  is  remarkably  united. 
Everybody  knows  everybody  else,  and  everybody  exchanges 
visits.  But  it  has  its  subdivisions.  Anna  Arkadyevna 
Kare"nina  had  friendly  relations  with  three  different  circles 
of  which  society  was  composed.  The  first  was  the  official 
circle,  to  which  her  husband  belonged,  composed  of  his  col- 
leagues and  subordinates,  bound  together,  or  even  further 
subdivided,  by  the  most  varied,  and  often  the  most  capricious, 
social  relations.  It  was  difficult  for  Anna  to  comprehend 
the  sentiment  of  almost  religious  respect  which  at  first  she 
felt  for  all  these  personages.  Now  she  knew  them,  as  one 
learns  to  know  people  in  a  provincial  city,  with  all  their  weak- 
nesses and  failings.  She  knew  how  the  shoe  pinched,  and 


138  ANNA  KAP£NINA. 

what  were  their  relations  among  themselves,  and  to  the  com- 
mon centre  to  which  they  all  belonged.  But  this  official 
clique,  in  which  her  husband's  interests  lay,  no  longer  pleased 
her ;  and  she  did  her  best  to  avoid  it,  in  spite  of  the  insinua- 
tions of  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna. 

The  second  circle  in  which  Anna  moved  was  that  which 
had  helped  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  in  his  career.  The  pivot 
of  this  wheel  was  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna :  it  was  com- 
posed of  aged,  ugly,  charitable,  and  zealous  women,  and  in- 
telligent, learned,  and  ambitious  men.  Some  one  had  given 
it  the  sobriquet  of  the  "conscience  of  Petersburg  society." 
Karenin  was  very  much  devoted  to  this  coterie;  and  Anna, 
whose  flexible  character  easily  accommodated  itself  to  her 
surroundings,  had  made  friends  in  its  number.  After  her  re- 
turn from  Moscow,  this  set  of  people  seemed  to  her  insup- 
portable ;  it  seemed  as  if  she  herself,  as  well  as  the  others, 
were  unnatural :  and  she  saw  the  Countess  Lidia  as  infre- 
quently as  she  possibly  could. 

And  finally,  Anna  had  friendly  relations  with  the  society  — 
properly  speaking,  fashionable  society,  that  world  of  balls, 
dinner-parties,  brilliant  toilets  —  which  with  one  hand  lays 
fast  hold  of  the  Court  lest  it  fall  absolutely  into  the  demi- 
monde, which  its  members  affect  to  despise,  but  whose  tastes 
are  precisely  similar.  The  bond  that  attracted  her  to  this  sort 
of  society  was  the  Princess  Bets}'  Tverskaia,  the  wife  of  one 
of  her  cousins,  who  enjoyed  an  income  of  a  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  rubles,  and  who  had  taken  Anna  under  her 
protection  as  soon  as  she  came  to  Petersburg.  She  had  a 
great  attraction  for  her,  and  rallied  her  on  the  society  that 
gathered  around  the  Countess  Lidia. 

"  When  I  am  old  and  ugly,  I  will  do  the  same,"  said 
Betsy;  "but  a  young  and  pretty  woman  like  yourself  has 
as  yet  no  place  in  such  an  as\-lum." 

Anna  at  first  had  avoided  as  far  as  possible  the  society  of 
the  Princess  Betsy  Tverskaia,  the  manner  of  life  in  these 
lofty  spheres  calling  for  expenses  beyond  her  means  ;  but 
after  her  return  from  Moscow  all  this  was  changed.  She 
neglected  her  worthy  old  friends,  and  cared  to  go  only  into 
grand  society.  It  was  there  that  she  experienced  the  trou- 
blesome pleasure  of  meeting  Vronsky  :  they  met  oftener  than 
elsewhere  at  the  house  of  Betsy,  who  was  a  Vronsky  before 
her  marriage,  and  was  an  own  cousin  of  the  count.  He, 
moreover,  went  everywhere  that  he  was  likely  to  meet  Anna, 


ANNA   KAItfiNINA.  139 

and,  if  possible,  spoke  to  her  of  his  love.  She  made  no  ad- 
vances :  but  her  heart,  as  soon  as  she  saw  him,  instantly  felt 
the  sensation  of  fulness  which  had  seized  her  the  moment 
that  they  met,  for  the  first  time,  near  the  train  at  Moscow  ; 
this  joy,  she  knew,  betrayed  itself  in  her  eyes,  in  her  smile, 
but  she  had  not  the  power  to  hide  it. 

Anna  at  first  sincerely  tried  to  persuade  herself  that  she 
was  angry  because  he  persisted  in  forcing  himself  upon  her ; 
but  one  evening  when  she  was  present  at  a  house  where  she 
expected  to  meet  him,  and  he  failed  to  come,  she  perceived 
clearl}',  by  the  pang  that  went  through  her  heart,  how  vain 
were  her  illusions,  and  how  her  infatuation,  instead  of  dis- 
pleasing her,  formed  the  ruling  passion  of  her  life. 

A  famous  diva  was  singing  for  the  second  time,  and  all 
the  society  of  Petersburg  was  at  the  theatre.  Vronsky  saw 
his  cousin  there,  and,  without  waiting  for  the  entr'acte,  left 
his  seat  in  the  first  row,  to  visit  her  box. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  to  dinner?  "  she  demanded  of  him  ; 
and  then  she  added  in  a  whisper,  and  with  a  smile,  so  as  to 
be  heard  only  by  him,  "•  I  admire  this  second  sight  of  lovers : 
she  was  not  there.  But  come  to  my  house  after  the  opera." 

Vronsky  looked  at  her  as  though  he  would  ask  what  she 
meant,  and  Betsy  replied  with  a  nod.  He  thanked  her  with 
a  smile,  and  sat  down. 

"  But  how  I  miss  all  your  pleasantries  :  what  have  become 
of  them?"  continued  the  princess,  who  followed  with  keen 
pleasure  the  progress  of  this  passion.  kk  You  are  in  love, 
my  dear ! ' ' 

k'That  is  all  that  I  ask  for,"  he  replied,  with  a  smile  of 
good-humor,  —  "  to  be  in  love.  If  I  complain,  it  is  not 
because  I  am  not  sufficiently  in  love ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  am  beginning  to  lose  hope." 

"  AY  hat  hope  could  you  have?"  asked  Betsy,  taking  the 
part  of  her  friend:  "  en  tendons  nous"  [let  us  have  a  clear 
understanding]  :  but  the  fire  in  her  eyes  told  with  sufficient 
clearness  that  she  understood  as  well  as  he  did  what  his  hope 
meant. 

"  None,"  replied  Vronsky,  laughing,  and  showing  his  reg- 
ular white  teeth.  "  Excuse  me,"  he  added,  taking  the 
opera-glasses  from  his  cousin's  hand,  in  order  to  direct  it 
across  her  shoulder  at  one  of  the  opposite  boxes.  "  I  fear 
I  am  becoming  ridiculous." 


140  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

He  knew  very  well  that  in  Betsy's  eyes,  and  in  those  of 
her  world,  he  ran  no  such  risk :  he  knew  perfectly  well  that 
though  a  man  might  seem  ridiculous  by  being  hopelessly  in 
love  with  a  young  girl,  or  an  unmarried  woman,  he  ran  no 
such  risk  if  he  made  love  to  a  married  woman.  Such  sport 
was  grand  and  exciting ;  and  thus  Vronsky,  as  he  handed 
back  the  opera-glasses,  looked  at  his  cousin  with  a  smile 
lurking  under  his  mustache. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  to  dinner?  "  she  asked  again,  un- 
able to  refrain  from  admiration  of  him. 

"I  suppose  I  must  tell  you:  I  was  busy  —  and  what 
about  ?  I  will  give  you  one  guess  out  of  a  hundred  —  out 
of  a  thousand  :  you  would  never  hit  it.  I  have  been  recon- 
ciling a  husband  with  his  wife's  persecutor.  Yes,  fact !  " 

"  What !  and  you  succeeded?  " 

"  Pretty  nearly." 

"You  must  tell  me  all  about  it  between  the  acts,"  said 
Betsy,  rising. 

"  Impossible  :  I  am  going  to  the  French  Theatre." 

"From  Nilsson?"  said  Betsy  incredulously,  though  she 
could  not  have  distinguished  Nilsson  from  the  poorest  cho- 
rus-singer. 

"  But  what  can  I  do  ?  I  have  made  an  appointment  in  order 
to  finish  my  act  of  peacemaking." 

"Blessed  are  the  peacemakers,  for  they  shall  be  saved," 
said  Betsy,  remembering  that  she  had  heard  somewhere  some 
such  quotation. 

V. 

"  IT'S  a  little  improper,  but  so  amusing,  that  I  wanted  to 
tell  you  about  it,"  said  Vronsky,  looking  at  his  cousin's 
sparkling  eyes.  "  However,  I  will  not  mention  any  names." 

"  But  I  can  guess?  so  much  the  better !  " 

"  Listen,  then.     Two  }roung  men,  just  a  little  "  — 

"  Officers  of  your  regiment,  of  course  "  — 

"  I  did  not  say  that  they  were  officers,  but  simply  young 
men,  who  had  dined  well ' '  — 

"  Translated,  tipsy  !  " 

"  Possibly  —  go  to  dine  with  a  comrade  :  they  are  in  very 
excellent  spirits.  They  see  a  young  woman  passing  them  in 
a  hired  carriage  :  she  turns  around,  and,  as  it  seems  to  them, 
looks  at  them  and  laughs.  They  follow  her  on  the  double- 


ANNA   KARtfNINA.  141 

quick.  To  their  great  surprise  their  beauty  stops  before  the 
very  house  where  they  were  going :  she  mounts  to  the  upper 
floor,  and  they  see  nothing  but  a  pair  of  rosy  lips  under  a 
veil,  and  a  pair  of  pretty  little  feet." 

"  But  you  describe  the  scene  so  vividly  as  to  make  me  be- 
lieve that  you  were  in  the  party." 

' '  Why  do  you  accuse  me  so  soon  ?  Nu  I  my  two  young 
men  climb  up  to  their  comrade's  room,  who  was  going  to  give 
a  farewell  dinner,  and  these  parting  ceremonies  compel  them 
to  drink,  perhaps,  more  than  was  good  for  them.  They 
question  their  host  about  the  inmates  of  the  house  ;  he  knows 
nothing  at  all  about  it:  their  friend's  valet,  to  their  ques- 
tions, '  Are  there  any  mamselles  here?'  replies  that  there  are 
a  good  many.  —  After  dinner  the  two  young  men  go  into 
their  friend's  library  and  write  a  fiery  letter  to  their  unknown, 
full  of  passionate  protestations :  they  themselves  carry  up 
the  letter,  in  order  to  explain  whatever  might  not  be  under- 
stood." 

"  But  why  do  you  tell  me  such  horrible  things  ?     Nu !  " 

"  They  ring.  A  girl  comes  to  the  door  :  they  give  her  the 
letter,  telling  her  they  are  so  smitten  that  they  are  ready  to 
die,  then  and  there,  where  they  are.  The  girl  parleys  with 
them.  Suddenl}-  a  gentleman  appears,  red  as  a  lobster,  and 
with  side-whiskers  like  sausages,  and  he  unceremoniously 
puts  them  out  of  the  door,  declaring  that  there  is  no  one 
there  except  his  wife." 

"  How  did  you  know  that  his  side- whiskers  were  like  sau- 
sages?" demanded  Betsy. 

"But  you  shall  see.  I  have  just  made  peace  between 
them." 

"  Nu !  what  came  of  it?  " 

"  This  is  the  most  interesting  part  of  the  affair.  The 
happy  couple  prove  to  be  a  titular  counsellor  and  his  wife. 
The  titular  counsellor  brings  a  complaint,  and  I  am  obliged 
to  serve  as  peacemaker.  What  a  diplomatist !  Talleyrand 
compared  to  me  was  nobody." 

"  What !  did  you  have  difficulties?  " 

"Davot!  Listen!  We  began  by  making  the  very  best 
excuse  that  we  could,  as  was  proper  enough  :  '  We  are  des- 
perately sorry,'  we  said,  '  for  this  unfortunate  occurrence.' 
The  titular  counsellor  seemed  to  be  calming  down  a  little  ; 
but  he  felt  it  necessary  to  express  his  feelings,  and  as  soon 
as  he  began  to  express  his  feelings  he  began  to  get  wrathy, 


142  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

and  he  said  very  impudent  things,  and  I  was  obliged  to  bring 
my  diplomatic  talents  into  requisition :  '  I  agree  that  their 
conduct  was  most  reprehensible,  but  please  remember  that 
there  was  a  misunderstanding :  they  were  young,  and  had 
just  come  from  a  good  dinner.  You  understand  ?  Now  they 
are  sorry  from  the  bottom  of  their  hearts,  and  beg  you  to 
forgive  them  their  fault.'  The  titular  counsellor  softened 
still  more :  '  I  agree  with  you,  count,  and  I  am  ready  to  par- 
don them  ;  but  you  perceive  that  my  wife,  a  virtuous  woman, 
has  been  exposed  to  insult,  to  persecution,  to  the  impudence 
of  good-for-nothing  young  '  —  And  the  impudent,  good- 
for-nothing  young  fellows  being  present,  I  have  to  exert 
myself  to  calm  them  down,  and  so  to  resume  my  diplomatic 
efforts  over  and  over  again.  Every  time  I  seem  on  the  point 
of  success,  my  titular  counsellor  gets  wrathy  again,  and  his 
face  gets  red,  and  his  sausages  begin  to  wag  up  and  down, 
and  I  find  myself  drowned  in  the  waves  of  diplomatic  subtle- 
ties." 

"Ach!  we  must  tell  you  all  about  this,"  said  Betsy  to  a 
lady  who  at  this  moment  came  into  her  box.  "  It  has 
amused  me  much  !  " 

"  Nu,  bonne  chance!1'  said  she,  giving  Vronsky  the  ends 
of  her  fingers,  as  she  held  her  fan  ;  and  then  shrugging  her 
shoulders,  so  as  to  keep  the  waist  of  her  dress  from  coming 
up,  she  went  to  the  front  of  the  box,  where  she  sat  down  in 
the  full  blaze  of  gas,  and  in  the  eyes  of  all. 

Vronsky  went  to  the  French  Theatre  to  meet  the  colonel 
of  his  regiment,  who  never  failed  to  be  present  at  a  single 
representation.  It  was  with  him  that  he  wished  to  speak  in 
regard  to  his  business  of  patching  up  the  peace,  which  had 
occupied  and  amused  him  for  three  days.  The  heroes  of 
this  affair  were  his  comrade  Petritsky  and  a  charming  young 
fellow,  Prince  Kerdrof,  who  had  lately  joined  their  regiment. 
The  principal  point  was,  that  the  affair  concerned  the  inter- 
ests of  his  regiment,  for  both  the  young  men  belonged  to 
Vronsky's  company. 

Venden,  the  titular  counsellor,  had  lodged  with  the 
colonel  a  complaint  that  the  officers  had  insulted  his  wife. 
His  young  wife,  Venden  told  the  colonel,  to  whom  he  had 
been  married  scarcely  five  months,  had  been  to  church  with 
her  mother,  and  feeling  indisposed,  had  engaged  the  first 
izvoshchik  at  hand,  in  order  to  reach  home  quickly.  The 
officers  had  chased  her :  she  had  come  home  feeling  still 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  143 

more  ill,  in  consequence  of  her  emotion,  and  of  having  run 
up  the  stairs.  Venclen  himself  had  just  returned  from  his 
office,  when  he  heard  voices  and  the  sound  of  a  bell.  See- 
ing that  he  had  to  do  with  a  pair  of  drunken  officers,  he  had 
pitched  them  out  of  the  door.  He  demanded  that  they  should 
be  severely  punished. 

"  No,  it's  all  very  well  to  talk,"  said  the  colonel  to  Vron- 
sky,  who  had  come  at  his  summons  to  talk  with  him  ;  "  but 
Petritsky  is  becoming  unbearable.  Not  a  week  goes  by 
without  some  scandal.  This  Tchinovnik  will  not  stop  here, 
he  will  go  farther." 

Vrousky  saw  all  the  unpleasant  consequences  of  this  affair, 
and  he  felt  that  a  duel  must  not  be,  and  that  it  was  much 
better  to  make  the  titular  counsellor  relent,  and  smooth  over 
the  scandal.  The  colonel  had  summoned  him  because  he 
knew  that  he  was  a  shrewd  and  gentlemanly  man,  and  zealous 
for  the  interests  of  the  regiment.  It  was  after  their  consul- 
tation that  Vronsky,  accompanied  by  Petritsky  and  Kerdrof, 
bad  gone  to  carry  their  excuses  to  the  titular  counsellor,  in 
the  hope  that  his  name,  and  his  epaulets  of  aide-de-camp, 
might  succeed  in  calming  the  angry  titular  counsellor. 
Vronsky  had  only  partially  succeeded,  as  he  had  just  related, 
and  the  reconciliation  seemed  dubious. 

At  the  theatre  Vronsk}*  took  the  colonel  into  the  lobby, 
and  told  him  of  the  success,  or  rather  the  lack  of  success, 
which  had  attended  his  mission.  After  reflection  the  colonel 
decided  to  leave  the  matter  in  abeyance ;  but  he  could  not 
help  laughing  as  he  heard  Vronsky's  lively  description  of  the 
wrath  of  the  titular  counsellor,  and  his  repeated  attempts  to 
bring  him  into  a  suitable  frame  of  mind. 

"  It  is  a  wretched  piece  of  business,  but  exceedingly  amus- 
ing. Still,  Kerdrof  could  not  fight  with  this  gentleman.  And 
how  do  you  like  Claire  this  evening?  —  charming !  "  said  he, 
referring  to  a  French  actress.  "  One  can't  see  her  too 
often  :  she  is  always  new.  Let  alone  the  French  for  that !  " 


VI. 

THE  Princess  Betsy  left  the  theatre  without  waiting  for 
the  end  of  the  last  act.  She  had  scarcely  had  more  than 
time  enough,  after  reaching  home,  to  go  into  her  dressing- 
room,  and  scatter  a  little  rice-powder  over  her  long,  pale 


144  ANNA  EARfiNINA. 

face,  re-arrange  her  toilet,  and  order  tea  to  be  served  in  the 
large  drawing-room,  when  the  carriages  began  to  arrive  at 
her  palace  on  the  Bolshaia  Morskaia.  The  mistress  of  the 
mansion,  with  renewed  color,  and  hair  re-arranged,  came 
down  to  receive  her  guests.  The  walls  of  the  great  drawing- 
room  were  hung  with  sombre  draperies,  and  the  floor  was 
laid  with  a  thick  carpet.  On  the  table,  which  was  covered 
with  a  cloth  of  dazzling  whiteness,  shining  in  the  light  of 
numberless  candles,  stood  a  silver  samovar  (tea-urn)  and  a 
tea-service  of  transparent  porcelain. 

The  princess  took  her  place  before  the  samovar,  and  drew 
off  her  gloves.  Servants,  quick  to  bring  chairs,  were  in 
attendance,  and  helped  with  noiseless  assiduity  to  arrange 
the  guests  in  two  camps,  the  one  around  the  princess,  the 
other  in  a  corner  of  the  drawing-room  around  the  wife  of 
a  foreign  ambassador,  a  handsome  lady,  with  black,  well- 
arched  eyebrows,  who  was  dressed  in  black  velvet.  The 
conversation,  as  usual  at  the  beginning  of  a  reception,  was 
continually  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  new  faces,  the  offers 
of  tea,  and  the  exchange  of  salutations,  and  seemed  to  be 
endeavoring  to  find  a  common  subject  of  interest. 

"  She  is  remarkably  handsome  for  an  actress  :  you  can  see 
that  she  has  studied  Kaulbach,"  said  a  diplomatist  in  the 
group  around  the  ambassador's  wife.  "  Did  you  notice  how 
she  fell?" 

"Ach!  I  beg  of  you,  don't  let  us  speak  of  Nilsson. 
Nothing  new  can  be  said  about  her,"  said  a  great  fat  lady, 
with  light  complexion,  without  either  eyebrows  or  chignon, 
and  dressed  in  an  old  silk  gown.  This  was  the  Princess  Miag- 
kaia,  famous  for  her  simplicity  and  frightful  manners,  and 
surnamed  the  Enfant  terrible.  Princess  Miagkaia  was  seated 
between  the  two  groups,  listening  to  what  was  said  on  both 
sides  of  her,  and  taking  impartial  interest  in  both.  "This 
very  day,  three  people  have  made  that  same  remark  about 
Kaulbach.  It  must  be  fashionable.  I  don't  see  why  that 
phrase  should  be  so  successful." 

The  conversation  was  cut  short  by  this  remark,  and  a  new 
theme  had  to  be  started. 

"  Tell  us  something  amusing,  but  don't  let  it  be  naughty," 
said  the  ambassador's  wife,  who  was  a  mistress  of  the  art 
of  conversation,  called,  by  the  English  small  talk.  She  was 
addressing  the  diplomatist. 

"They   say   that   there   is   nothing  more   difficult,    since 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  145 

naughty  things  alone  are  amusing,"  replied  the  diplomatist, 
with  a  smile.  ''However,  I  will  do  my  best.  Give  me  a 
theme.  Every  thing  depends  upon  the  theme.  When  you 
get  that  for  a  background,  you  can  easily  fill  it  in  with 
embroidery.  I  often  think  that  the  celebrated  talkers  of  the 
past  would  be  exceedingly  embarrassed  if  they  were  alive 
now:  every  thing  intellectual  is  considered  so  dull." 

"  You  are  not  the  first  to  say  that,"  remarked  the  ambas- 
sador's wife,  interrupting  him  with  a  smile. 

The  conversation  began  sleepily,  and  therefore  it  quickly 
languished  again.  It  was  necessary  to  infuse  new  life  ;  and  to 
do  this,  they  had  recourse  to  an  unfailing  subject, — gossip. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  there  is  something  Louis  XV. 
about  Tushkievitch?  "  asked  some  one,  indicating  a  hand- 
some, light-haired  young  man,  who  was  standing  near  the 
table. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  he's  quite  in  the  style  of  the  drawing-rooin  of 
which  he  is  such  an  important  ornament." 

This  subject  sustained  the  conversation,  since  it  consisted 
wholly  of  hints.  It  could  not  be  treated  openly,  for  it  would 
have  brought  direct  reference  to  Tushki6vitch's  love  affair 
with  the  Piiucess  Betsy. 

Around  the  samovar,  the  conversation  hesitated  for  some 
time  upon  three  inevitable  subjects,  —  the  news  of  the  day, 
the  theatre,  and  a  lawsuit  which  was  to  be  tried  the  next  day. 
At  last  the  same  subject  arose  that  was  occupying  the  other 
group,  —  gossip. 

"  Have  you  heard  that  Maltishchef  —  that  is,  the  mother, 
not  the  daughter  —  has  had  a  costume  in  cliable  rose?" 

"Is  it  possible?     No  !     That  is  delicious." 

"  I  am  astonished  that  with  her  sense,  —  for  she  is  sensi- 
ble,—  she  does  not  perceive  how  ridiculous  she  is."  Every- 
body found  something  in  which  to  criticise  and  tear  to  pieces 
the  unfortunate  Maltishchef ;  and  the  conversation  grew 
lively,  brilliant,  and  gay,  like  a  flaming  pyre. 

The  Princess  Betsy's  husband,  a  tall,  good-natured  man, 
passionately  fond  of  collecting  prints,  entered  gently  at  this 
moment.  He  had  heard  that  his  wife  had  a  reception,  and 
desired  to  show  himself  in  her  circle.  He  approached  the 
Princess  Miagkaia,  but.  owing  to  his  noiseless  step  on  the 
carpet,  she  did  not  perceive  him. 

"  How  did  you  like  Nilssou?  "  he  asked. 

"  Ach  !    Do  you  steal  in  upon  a  body  that  way  ?    How  you 


146  ANNA  KARtiNINA, 

startled  me  !  "  she  cried.  "  Don't  speak  to  me  about  the 
opera,  I  beg  of  you  :  you  don't  know  any  thing  about  music. 
I  prefer  to  descend  to  your  level,  and  talk  with  you  about 
your  engravings  and  majolicas.  Nu!  What  treasures  have 
you  discovered  lately?" 

"  If  you  would  like,  I  will  show  them  to  you  ;  but  you 
would  not  appreciate  them." 

"  Show  them  to  me  all  the  same.  I  am  getting  my  educa- 
tion among  these  —  bankers,  as  you  call  them.  They  have 
lovely  engravings.  They  like  to  show  them." 

"Have  you  been  at  the  Schiitzburgs  ?  "  asked  the  mis- 
tress of  the  house,  from  her  place  by  the  samovar. 

"Certainly,  ma  ch&re.  They  invited  my  husband  and  me 
to  dinner,  and  I  have  been  told  that  at  this  dinner,  they  had 
a  sauce  that  cost  a  thousand  rubles,"  replied  the  Princess 
Miagkaia,  in  a  loud  voice  calculated  to  be  heard  by  all ; 
"  and  it  was  a  very  poor  sauce,  too,  —  something  green.  I 
had  to  return  the  compliment,  and  I  got  them  up  a  sauce 
that  cost  eighty-five  kopeks.1  Every  one  was  happy.  I 
can't  afford  to  make  thousand-ruble  sauces, — not  I." 

"  She  is  unique,"  said  Betsy. 

"Astonishing,"  said  another. 

The  Princess  Miagkaia  never  failed  of  causing  a  sensation 
by  her  speeches,  and  it  arose  from  the  fact  that  she  spoke 
with  great  good  sense  of  very  ordinary  things,  but  did  not 
introduce  them  at  suitable  occasions,  as  was  the  case  at  the 
present  time  ;  but  in  the  society  where  she  moved,  this  great 
good  sense  gave  the  effect  of  the  most  subtile  wit ;  her  suc- 
cess astonished  even  herself,  and  she  enjoyed  it  none  the  less 
on  that  account. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  silence  that  followed,  the  lady  of 
the  house  wanted  to  make  the  conversation  more  general ; 
and,  turning  to  the  ambassador's  wife,  she  said,  — 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  will  not  have  some  tea?  Then 
come  this  way." 

"  No :  we  are  ver}-  well  where  we  are,  in  this  corner,"  re- 
plied the  latter  with  a  smile,  resuming  the  thread  of  a  con- 
versation which  interested  her  very  deeply.  It  concerned 
Karen  in  and  his  wife. 

"  Anna  is  very  much  changed  since  her  return  from  Mos- 
cow. There  is  something  strange  about  her,"  said  one  of 
her  friends. 

1  One  ruble,  or  one  hundred  kopeks,  is  worth  eighty  cents. 


ANNA   KAIttiNINA.  147 

"  The  change  is  due  to  the  fact,  that  she  brought  back  in 
her  train  the  shadow  of  Aleksei  Vronsky,"  said  the  ambas- 
sador's wife. 

"What  does  that  prove?  There's  a  story  in  Grimm's 
Tales  —  a  man  without  a  shadow  —  a  man  loses  his  shadow 
in  punishment  of  something  or  other.  I,  for  my  part,  cannot 
see  where  the  punishment  lies,  but  perhaps  it's  painful  for  a 
woman  to  be  deprived  of  her  shadow." 

"  Yes,  but  the  women  who  have  shadows  generally  come 
to  some  bad  end,"  said  Anna's  friend. 

"  Hold  jTour  tongues  !  "  1  cried  the  Princess  Miagkaia,  as 
she  heard  these  words.  "  Madame  Kar^nina  is  a  charming 
woman,  but  I  can't  abide  her  husband." 

"Why  don't  you  like  him?"  demanded  the  wife  of  the 
ambassador.  "He  is  a  very  remarkable  man.  My  hus- 
band insists  that  there  are  few  statesman  in  Europe  that 
equal  him." 

"My  husband  insists  on  the  same  thing,  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve it,"  replied  the  princess :  "  if  our  husbands  had  not  had 
this  idea,  we  should  have  seen  Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch  as  he 
really  is  ;  and  in  my  opinion,  he  is  a  blockhead.  I  only 
whisper  it,  but  that  gives  me  some  satisfaction.  Once  upon 
a  time,  I  used  to  think  it  was  my  fault  because  I  could  not 
see  wherein  lay  his  wit ;  but  as  soon  as  I  said  to  myself,  — 
under  my  breath,  understand  you,  —  he  is  a  blockhead, 
all  was  explained.  As  to  Anna,  I  agree  with  you  entirely. 
She  is  lovely  and  good.  Is  it  her  fault,  poor  woman,  if 
everybody  falls  in  love  with  her,  and  pursues  her  like 
shadows?" 

".Da/  I  do  not  allow  myself  to  judge  her,"  said  Anna's 
friend,  willing  to  avoid  blame. 

"  Because  no  one  follows  us  like  a  shadow,  it's  no  sign 
that  we  haven't  the  right  to  judge." 

Having  thus  disposed  of  Anna's  friend,  the  princess  and 
the  ambassador's  wife  drew  up  to  the  table,  and  joined  in 
the  general  conversation  about  the  King  of  Prussia. 

"  Whom  have  you  been  gossiping  about?"  asked  Betsy. 

"About  the  Kar6nins.  The  princess  has  been  picturing 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,"  replied  the  ambassador's  wife, 
sitting  down  near  the  table,  with  a  smile. 

"Shame  that  we  could  not  have  heard   it,"  said  Betsy, 

1  "  Pi  pun  ram  nn  yazuik!"  A  slang  expression,  literally  meaning,  "May  your 
tongue  have  the  pip !  " 


148  ANNA   KAK&NINA. 

looking  towards  the  door.  "Ah!  here  3-011  are  at  last," 
said  she,  turning  to  Vronsky,  who  at  that  moment  came  in. 

Vronsky  knew,  and  met  every  day,  all  the  people  whom  he 
found  collected  in  his  cousin's  drawing-room  ;  therefore  he 
came  in  with  the  calmness  of  a  man  who  rejoins  friends  from 
whom  he  has  only  just  parted. 

"  Where  have  I  come  from?  I  must  confess,"  said  he,  in 
reply  to  a  question  from  the  ambassador's  wife,  "  from  the 
Boujfes.  And  it  seems  to  me  with  a  new  pleasure,  although 
'tis  for  the  hundredth  time.  It  is  charming.  It  is  humiliat- 
ing to  confess,  but  I  get  sleepy  at  the  oper^;  but  I  enjoy 
it  at  Les  Bouffes  up  to  the  very  last  minute.  To-day  " — 

He  mentioned  a  French  actress,  but  the  ambassador's  wife 
stopped  him  with  an  expression  of  mock  terror. 

"  Don't  speak  to  us  of  this  fright !  " 

"  Nw!  I  will  hold  my  peace  the  more  willingly  because  you 
all  know  these  frights." 

"  And  you  would  all  go  there  if  it  were  as  fashionable  as 
the  opera,"  added  the  Princess  Miagkaia. 


VII. 

STEPS  were  heard  near  the  door,  and  Betsy,  convinced  that 
she  should  see  Anna  appear,  looked  at  Vronsky.  He  also 
looked  in  the  direction  of  the  door,  and  his  face  had  a 
strange  expression  of  joy,  expectation,  and  almost  of  fear, 
and  he  rose  slightly  from  his  chair.  Anna  came  into  the 
drawing-room.  She  crossed  the  short  distance  between  her 
and  the  mistress  of  the  mansion,  with  that  rapid,  light,  but 
decided  step,  which  distinguished  her  from  all  the  other 
women  of  this  circle.  As  usual,  she  stood  extremely 
straight,  and,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  Betsy,  went  directly 
up  to  her,  and  shook  hands  with  a  smile,  and  with  the 
same  smile  she  looked  at  Vronsky.  He  bowed  profoundly, 
and  offered  her  a  chair. 

Anna  bent  her  head  a  little,  and  blushed,  and  gave  a  slight 
frown.  Several  of  the  ladies  pressed  around  her ;  she  shook 
hands  with  them,  and  then  she  turned  to  Betsy  :  — 

"  I  have  just  been  at  the  Countess  Lidia's :  I  wanted  to 
get  away  earlier,  but  I  was  detained.  Sir  John  was  there. 
He  is  very  interesting." 

"  Ach!  that  missionary?  " 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  149 

"  Yes  :  he  related  many  very  curious  things  about  life  in 
the  Indies." 

The  conversation,  which  Anna's  entrance  had  interrupted, 
again  wavered,  like  a  fire  that  threatens  to  go  out. 

"Sir  John!  da.  Sir  John!  Yes,  I  have  seen  him.  He 
speaks  well.  Vlasief  is  actually  in  love  with  him  !  " 

"Is  it  true  that  the  youngest  of  the  Vlasief s  is  going  to 
marry  Tapof  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes  :  people  say  that  the  affair  is  fully  decided." 

"  I  am  astonished  that  the  parents  are  willing." 

"  They  say  that  it  is  a  love-match." 

"A  love-match?  What  antediluvian  ideas  3-011  have! 
Who  speaks  of  love  in  our  days?"  said  the  ambassador's 
wife. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  about  it?  This  foolish  old  custom 
is  still  occasionally  met  with,"  said  Vronsky. 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  those  who  adhere  to  it:  the -only 
happy  marriages  that  I  know  about  are  those  of  reason." 

"Yes;  but  does  it  not  often  happen  that  these  marriages 
of  reason  break  like  ropes  of  sand,  precisely  because  of  this 
love  which  you  affect  to  scorn  ?  ' ' 

"  Let  us  see  :  what  we  call  a  marriage  of  reason  is  where 
both  parties  take  an  equal  risk.  Love  is  a  disease  through 
which  we  all  must  pass,  like  the  measles." 

"  In  that  case  it  would  be  wise  to  find  an  artificial  means 
of  inoculation,  as  in  small-pox." 

"  When  I  was  young  I  fell  in  love  with  a  sacristan :  I 
should  like  to  know  what  good  that  did  me  !  "  said  the  Prin- 
cess Miagkaia. 

"  No ;  but,  jesting  aside,  I  believe  that  to  know  what  love 
really  is,  one  must  have  been  deceived  once,  and  then  been 
set  right,"  said  the  Princess  Betsy. 

"Even  after  marriage?"  asked  the  ambassador's  wife, 
laughing. 

"  It  is  never  to  late  to  mend,"  said  the  diplomatist,  quot- 
ing the  English  proverb. 

"But  really,"  interrupted  Betsy,  "you  are  deceived  the 
first  time,  so  as  afterwards  to  get  into  the  right  path.  What 
do  you  say?  "  said  she,  turning  to  Anna,  who  was  listening 
to  the  conversation  with  a  smile. 

Vrousky  looked  at  her,  and  waited  for  her  answer  with  a 
violent  beating  of  the  heart:  after  she  had  spoken,  he  drew 
a  long  breath,  as  though  he  had  escaped  some  danger. 


150  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

"I  think,"  said  Anna,  playing  with  her  glove,  "  that  if 
there  are  as  many  opinions  as  there  are  heads,  then  there  are 
as  man}'  ways  of  loving  as  there  are  hearts." 

She  turned  quickly  to  Vronsk3T. 

"  I  have  just  had  a  letter  from  Moscow.  They  write  me 
that  Kitty  Shcherbatskai'a  is  very  ill." 

"  Really,"  said  Vronsky  gloomily. 

Anna  looked  at  him  with  a  severe  expression. 

"  Doesn't  this  interest  you?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  very  sorry.  Exactly  what  did 
they  write  you,  if  I  may  be  permitted  to  inquire?  " 

Anna  arose  and  went  to  Betsy. 

"Will  you  give  me  a  cup  of  tea?"  she  said,  leaning  on 
the  chair.  While  Betsy  was  pouring  the  tea,  Vronsky  went 
to  Anna. 

' '  What  did  they  write  yon  ? ' ' 

"  I  often  think  that  men  do  not  know  what  nobilit}7  means, 
though  they  are  all  the  time  talking  about  it,"  said  Anna, 
not  answering  his  question. 

"  I  have  been  wanting  to  tell  3*011  for  a  long  time,"  she 
added,  going  towards  a  table  laden  with  albums. 

"  I  don't  know  what  your  words  mean,"  he  said,  offering 
her  a  cup  of  tea. 

She  glanced  at  the  sofa  near,  and  then  sat  down,  and  he 
instantly  sat  beside  her. 

"Yes,  I  have  been  wanting  to  tell  you,"  she  continued, 
without  looking  at  him.  "You  have  acted  badly,  —  very 
badly." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  I  don't  feel  that  I  have?  But  whose 
fault  was  it?" 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  to  me?"  said  she,  with  a  severe 
look. 

"  You  know  it  yourself,"  he  replied,  without  dropping  his 
eyes. 

She,  not  he,  felt  the  burden  of  the  guilt. 

"  This  simply  proves  that  you  have  no  heart,"  said  she. 
But  her  eyes  told  the  story,  that  she  knew  that  he  had  a 
heart,  and  that  therefore  she  feared  him. 

"  What  you  were  talking  about  just  now  was  error,  not 
love." 

"  Remember  that  I  have  forbidden  you  to  speak  that  word, 
that  hateful  word,"  said  Anna,  trembling  ;  and  instantly  she 
felt  that  by  the  use  of  the  word  "  forbidden,"  she  recog- 


ANNA   KAKtiNINA.  151 

nized  a  certain  jurisdiction  over  him,  and  thus  encouraged 
him  to  speak.  "For  a  long  time  I  have  been  wanting  to 
have  a  talk  with  you,"  she  continued,  in  a  firm  tone,  looking 
him  full  in  the  face,  though  her  cheeks  were  aflame.  "  I 
have  come  to-night  on  purpose,  knowing  that  I  should  find 
you  here  :  this  must  come  to  an  end.  I  have  never  had  to 
blush  before  any  one  before,  and  3Tou  cause  me  to  feel  guilty 
in  my  own  e3'es." 

He  looked  at  her,  and  was  struck  with  the  new  expression 
of  her  beauty. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do?  "  said  he. 

"  I  want  you  to  go  to  Moscow,  and  beg  Kitty's  pardon." 

"  You  do  not  want  that,"  said  he. 

He  felt  that  she  was  compelling  herself  to  say  one  thing, 
while  she  really  desired  something  else. 

"If  you  love  me,  as  you  say  you  do,"  she  murmured, — 
"  then  do  what  will  give  me  peace  !  " 

Vronsky's  face  lighted  up. 

u  Don't  you  know  that  you  are  my  life?  But  I  don't  know 
what  peace  means,  and  I  can't  give  it  to  you.  Myself,  my 
love  I  can  give  —  3*es,  I  cannot  think  of  our  being  apart 
from  each  other.  For  me,  you  and  I  are  one.  I  see  no 
hope  of  peace  for  you  or  for  me  in  the  future.  As  I  look 
ahead,  I  see  nothing  but  despair  and  misfortune,  —  unless  I 
see  the  possibility  of  happiness,  and  what  happiness  !  Is  it 
really  impossible?"  he  murmured,  scarcely  daring  to  pro- 
nounce the  words  ;  but  she  understood  him. 

All  the  forces  of  her  mind  pointed  to  what  she  ought  to 
say ;  but  instead  of  speaking,  she  looked  at  him  with  love 
in  her  eyes,  and  said  nothing. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  in  his  transport,  "  at  the  very 
moment  when  I  was  in  despair,  when  I  thought  I  should  never 
succeed,  it  has  come  !  This  is  love  !  She  loves  me  !  It  is 
a  confession." 

"  Do  this  for  me  :  let  us  be  good  friends,  and  never  speak 
to  me  in  this  way  again,"  said  her  words :  her  eyes  told  a 
totally  different  story. 

"We  can  never  be  mere  friends:  you  yourself  know  it. 
Shall  we  be  the  most  miserable,  or  the  happiest,  of  human 
beings?  It  is  for  you  to  decide." 

She  began  to  speak,  but  he  interrupted  her. 

"All  that  I  ask  is  the  right  of  hoping  and  suffering,  as 
I  do  now  ;  if  it  is  impossible,  order  me  to  disappear,  and  I 


152  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

will  disappear:  if  my  presence  is  painful  to  you,  you  shall 
be  relieved  of  the  sight  of  me." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  drive  you  from  me." 

"Then  change  nothing;  let  things  go  as  they  are,"  said 
he,  with  trembling  voice.  "•  Here  is  your  husband  !  " 

Indeed,  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch  at  that  instant  was  enter- 
ing the  drawing-room,  with  his  calm  face  and  ungraceful 
walk. 

He  went  first  to  the  mistress  of  the  mansion,  as  he  passed 
casting  a  glance  at  Anna  and  Vronsky,  and  then  he  sat  down 
by  the  tea-table,  and  in  his  slow  and  well-modulated  voice, 
and  in  the  tone  of  persiflage,  which  seemed  always  to  deride 
some  one  or  some  thing,  he  said,  as  he  took  in  the  assem- 
bly, "  Your  Rambouillet  is  complete,  —  the  Graces  and  the 
Muses !  " 

But  the  Princess  Betsy,  who  could  not  endure  this  tone  of 
derision,  —  "sneering"  she  called  it,  —  with  the  tact  of  a 
consummate  hostess,  quickly  brought  him  round  to  a  ques- 
tion of  serious  interest.  The  forced  conscription  was  under 
discussion,  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  defended  it  with 
vivacity  against  Betsy's  attacks. 

Vrousky  and  Anna  still  sat  near  their  little  table.  "  That 
is  getting  rather  pronounced,"  said  a  lady  in  a  whisper, 
referring  to  Kar6nin,  Anna,  and  Vronsky. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you?  "  said  Anna's  friend. 

These  were  not  the  only  ladies  who  were  making  the  same 
remarks :  the  Princess  Miagkaia  and  Betsy  themselves 
glanced  more  than  once  to  the  side  of  the  room  where  they 
sat  alone.  Only  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  paid  no  attention 
to  them,  and  did  not  allow  his  thoughts  to  wander  from  the 
interesting  conversation  on  which  he  had  started. 

Betsy,  perceiving  the  unfortunate  effect  caused  by  her 
friends,  executed  a  skilful  manoeuvre  so  that  some  one  else 
could  reply  in  her  stead  to  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  and 
crossed  over  to  Anna. 

"  I  always  admire  your  husband's  clear  and  explicit  lan- 
guage," she  said.  "  The  most  transcendental  questions  seem 
within  my  reach  when  he  speaks." 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  said  Anna,  radiant  with  joy,  though  she  did 
not  understand  a  word  that  Betsy  had  said.  Then  she  arose 
and  went  over  to  the  large  table,  and  joined  in  the  general 
conversation. 

At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch  pro- 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  153 

posed  to  her  to  go  home  ;  but  she  answered,  without  looking 
at  him,  that  she  wished  to  remain  to  supper.  Alekse"i  Alek- 
sandrovitch  took  leave  of  the  company  and  departed. 

The  Kar£nins'  coachman,  an  old  Tartar,  dressed  in  his 
waterproof,  was  having  some  difficulty  in  restraining  his 
horses,  excited  with  the  cold.  A  lackey  stood  with  his  hand 
on  the  door  of  the  coupe.  The  Swiss  was  standing  near  the 
outer  door ;  and  Anna  listened  with  ecstasy  to  what  Vronsky 
whispered,  while  she  was  freeing,  with  nervous  fingers,  the 
lace  of  her  sleeve  which  had  caught  on  the  hook  of  her  fur 
cloak. 

"You  made  no  agreement,  I  confess,"  Vronsky  was  say- 
ing, as  he  accompanied  her  to  the  carriage,  "  but  you  know 
that  it  is  not  friendship  that  I  ask  for :  for  me,  the  whole 
happiness  of  my  life  is  contained  in  that  one  word  that  you 
despise,  —  love." 

"  Love,"  she  repeated  slowly,  as  though  she  had  spoken  to 
herself  :  then,  as  she  disentangled  her  lace,  she  suddenly  said, 
"I  do  not  like  this  word,  because  it  has  for  me  a  sense  more 
profound,  and  vastly  more  serious,  than  you  can  imagine. 
But  till  next  time,"  she  said,  looking  him  in  the  face. 

She  reached  him  her  hand,  and,  with  a  rapid  step,  passed 
the  Swiss,  and  disappeared  in  her  carriage. 

Her  look,  her  pressure  of  his  hand,  overwhelmed  Vronsky. 
He  kissed  the  palm  where  her  fingers  had  touched  it,  and 
went  back  to  his  quarters  with  the  conviction  that  this  even- 
ing had  brought  him  nearer  to  the  goal  of  which  he  dreamed, 
than  all  the  two  months  past. 


VIII. 

ALEKSEI  ALEKSANDROVITCH  found  nothing  out  of  the  way 
in  the  fact  that  his  wife  and  Vronsky  had  held  a  rather  pro- 
nounced tete-d-tete,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  others  showed 
some  astonishment,  and  he  resolved  to  keep  Anna  under  his 
observation.  According  to  his  usual  custom,  when  he 
reached  home,  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch  went  to  his  library, 
threw  himself  into  his  arm-chair,  and  opened  his  book  at  the 
place  marked  by  a  paper-cutter,  and  read  an  article  on 
Papistry  till  the  clock  struck  one.  From  time  to  time  he 
passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  and  shook  his  head,  as 


154  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

though  to  drive  away  an  importunate  thought.  At  his  usual 
hour  he  prepared  for  rest,  but  Anna  had  not  yet  returned. 
With  his  book  under  his  arm,  he  went  to  her  room  ;  but 
instead  of  being  pre-occupied,  as  usual,  with  considerations 
appertaining  to  his  governmental  duties,  he  was  thinking  of 
his  wife,  and  of  the  disagreeable  impression  which  the  state 
of  things  caused  him.  Unwilling  to  go  to  bed,  he  walked  up 
and  down  with  arms  behind  his  back,  feeling  the  necessity 
upon  him  of  some  reflection  on  the  events  of  the  evening. 

At  first  thought,  it  seemed  to  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  very 
simple  and  natural  to  speak  with  his  wife  on  the  subject ; 
but  as  he  reflected,  it  came  over  him  that  the  matter  was 
complicated  in  a  most  vexatious  fashion.  Karen  in  was  not 
jealous.  A  husband,  in  his  eyes,  offered  his  wife  an  insult 
in  showing  jealously,  but  he  saw  no  special  reason  for  repos- 
ing implicit  confidence  in  his  young  wife,  and  for  believing 
that  she  would  always  love  him.  It  was  not  this,  however, 
that  he  asked  himself.  Having  hitherto  been  free  from  sus- 
picions and  doubts,  he  assured  himself  that  he  would  have 
absolute  trust  in  her.  Yet,  as  he  dwelt  upon  these  details, 
he  felt  that  he  was  placed  in  an  illogical  and  absurd  situa- 
tion where  he  was  powerless  to  act.  Till  now,  he  had  never 
come  iu  contact  with  the  trials  of  life,  except  as  they  met 
him  in  the  sphere  of  his  official  functions.  The  impression 
which  the  present  crisis  made  upon  him,  was  such  as  a  man 
feels,  who,  passing  calmly  over  a  bridge  above  a  precipice, 
suddenly  discovers  that  the  arch  is  broken,  and  that  the  abyss 
yawns  beneath  his  feet. 

The  abyss  in  bis  case  was  actual  life  ;  and  the  bridge,  the 
artificial  existence,  which,  till  the  present  time,  had  alone 
been  open  to  him.  The  idea  that  his  wife  could  love  another 
man  occurred  to  him  for  the  first  time,  and  filled  him  with 
terror. 

Without  stopping  to  undress,  he  kept  walking  up  and 
down  with  regular  steps  over  the  echoing  floors.  First  he 
went  through  the  dining-room,  lighted  with  a  single  burner ; 
then  the  dark  drawing-room,  where  a  feeble  ray  of  light 
from  the  door  fell  on  his  full-length  portrait,  which  had  been 
recently  painted ;  and  then  his  wife's  boudoir,  where  two 
candles  shed  their  radiance  on  the  costly  bric-H-brac  of  her 
writing-table,  and  on  the  portraits  of  parents  and  friends. 
When  he  reached  the  door  of  her  bedroom,  he  turned  on  his 
heel. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  155 

From  time  to  time  he  stopped,  and  said  to  himself,  "  Yes, 
this  must  be  cut  short ;  I  must  be  decided ;  I  must  tell  her 
my  way  of  looking  at  it!  But  what  can  I  say?  what  de- 
cision can  I  make?  After  all,  what  has  been  done?  She 
had  a  long  talk  with  him  —  But  whom  does  not  a  society 
woman  talk  with?  To  show  jealousy  for  such  a  trifle  would 
be  humiliating  for  us  both." 

But  this  reasoning,  which  at  first  sight  appeared  to  him 
conclusive,  suddenly  lost  its  cogenc}*.  From  the  door  of 
her  sleeping-room  he  returned  again  to  the  dining-room, 
then,  as  he  crossed  the  drawing-room,  he  thought  he  heard  a 
voice  saying  to  him,  "The  rest  seemed  surprised,  therefore 
there  must  be  something  in  it.  —  Yes,  the  thing  must  be 
broken  short  off  ;  you  must  be  decided  :  but  how?  " 

His  thoughts,  like  his  steps,  followed  the  same  circle',  and 
he  struck  no  new  idea.  He  recognized  this,  passed  his  hand 
over  his  forehead,  and  sat  down  in  her  boudoir. 

There,  as  he  looked  at  Anna's  writing-table,  with  its  mala- 
chite ornaments  and  a  letter  unfinished,  his  thoughts  took 
another  direction  :  he  thought  of  her,  and  how  she  would 
feel.  His  imagination  showed  him  his  wife's  life,  the  needs 
of  her  heart  and  her  intellect ;  her  tastes,  her  desires :  and 
the  idea  that  possibly  she  could,  that  absolutely  she  must, 
have  an  individual  existence  apart  from  his,  came  over  him 
so  powerfully,  that  he  hastened  to  put  it  out  of  his  mind. 
This  was  the  abyss  that  he  must  fathom  with  his  gaze.  To 
penetrate  by  thought  and  feeling  into  the  soul  of  another 
was  to  him  a  thing  unknown,  and  seemed  to  him  dangerous. 

"  And  what  is  most  terrible,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  is  that 
this  wretched  uncertainty  comes  upon  me  just  as  I  am  about 
to  bring  my  work  to  completion,"  —  he  referred  lo  a  law 
that  he  wished  to  have  passed,  —  "and  when  I  have  the 
greatest  need  of  all  my  mental  powers,  of  all  my  equa- 
nimity. What  is  to  be  done?  I  am  not  one  of  those  who 
cannot  face  their  misfortunes.  I  must  reflect :  I  must 
take  some  stand,  and  get  rid  of  this  annoyance,"  he  added 
aloud.  "I  do  not  admit  that  I  have  any  right  to  probe  into 
her  feelings,  or  to  scrutinize  what  is  going  on  in  her  heart : 
that  belongs  to  her  conscience,  and  comes  into  the  domain 
of  religion,"  he  said  to  himself,  rejoiced  that  he  had  found 
a  law  applicable  to  the  circumstances  that  had  arisen. 

"Thus,"  he  continued,  "the  questions  relating  to  her 
feelings  are  questions  of  conscience,  in  which  I  have  no  con- 


156  ANNA    KAUlSNINA 

cern.  My  duty  lies  clearly  before  me.  Obliged,  as  head  of 
my  family,  to  watch  over  her,  to  point  out  the  dangers  which 
I  see,  responsible  as  I  am  for  her  conduct,  I  must,  if  need- 
ful, make  use  of  my  rights." 

And  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  laid  out,  in  his  mind,  a  plan 
by  which  he  would  speak  to  his  wife,  and  all  the  time  he  re- 
gretted the  necessity  of  wasting  his  time  and  his  intellectual 
powers  in  family  matters.  But,  in  spite  of  him,  his  plan 
assumed,  in  his  thought,  the  clear,  precise,  and  logical  form 
of  a  report :  — 

"  I  must  make  her  understand  as  follows  :  First,  The  mean- 
ing and  importance  of  public  opinion  ;  Secondly,  The  reli- 
gious significance  of  marriage ;  Thirdly,  The  misfortunes 
which  might  assail  her  son  ;  Fourthly,  The  misfortunes  which 
might  befall  herself."  And  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  twisted 
his  fingers  together,  and  made  the  joints  crack.  This  gesture, 
which  was  a  bad  habit  of  his,  calmed  him,  and  helped  to 
bring  him  back  to  moral  equilibrium,  of  which  he  stood  in 
such  need. 

The  rumbling  of  the  carriage  was  heard  in  front  of  the 
house,  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  stopped  in  the  middle  of 
the  dining-room.  He  heard  his  wife's  steps  on  the  stair- 
way. His  sermon  was  all  ready  ;  but  still  he  stood  there, 
twisting  his  fingers  until  they  cracked  again.  Though  he  was 
satisfied  with  his  little  sermon,  he  trembled  when  he  saw  her 
come,  with  fear  of  what  the  consequences  might  be. 


IX. 

ANNA  entered  with  bent  head,  playing  with  the  tassels  of 
her  bashluik  [Turkish  hood].  Her  face  was  radiant,  but  not 
with  joy :  it  was  rather  the  terrible  glow  of  a  conflagration 
on  a  cloudy  sky.  When  she  saw  her  husband  she  raised 
her  head  and  smiled,  as  though  she  had  awakened  from  a 
dream. 

"  You  are  not  a-bed  j'et?  what  a  miracle  ! "  she  said,  tak- 
ing off  her  bashluik;  and,  without  pausing,  she  went  into  her 
dressing-room,  crying,  "  It  is  late,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch," 
as  she  got  to  the  door. 

"  Anna,  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you." 

"With  me?"  she  said  in  astonishment,  coming  out  into 
the  hall,  and  looking  at  him.  "  What  is  it?  What  about?  " 


ANNA  KAK£NINA.  157 

she  demanded,  ns  she  sat  down.  "  Nu!  let  us  talk,  then, 
since  it  is  so  necessary ;  but  I  would  much  rather  go  to 
sleep." 

Anna  said  what  came  to  her  mind,  astonished  at  her  own 
facility  at  telling  a  lie  :  her  words  sounded  perfectly  natural. 
She  seemed  really  to  want  to  go  to  sleep  :  she  felt  sustained, 
lifted  up,  by  some  invisible  power,  and  clad  in  an  impenetra- 
ble armor  of  falsehood. 

"  Anna,  I  must  put  you  on  your  guard." 

"  On  my  guard  !  why  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  so  gayly,  so  innocently,  that  for  any 
one  who  did  not  know  her  as  her  husband  did,  the  tone  of 
her  voice  would  have  sounded  perfectly  natural.  But  for 
him,  who  knew  that  he  could  not  deviate  from  the  least  of  his 
habits  without  her  asking  the  reason,  who  knew  that  her 
first  impulse  was  always  to  tell  him  of  her  pleasures  and  her 
sorrows,  the  fact  that  Anna  took  special  pains  not  to  observe 
his  agitation,  or  even  to  speak,  was  very  significant  to  him. 
He  felt,  by  the  very  tone  that  she  assumed,  that  she  said 
openly  and  without  dissimulation,  "Z)a/  thus  it  must  be,  and 
from  henceforth."  He  felt  like  a  man  who  should  come  home 
and  find  his  house  barricaded  against  him. 

"Perhaps  the  key  will  yet  be  found,"  thought  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch. 

"  I  want  to  put  you  on  }Tour  guard,"  said  he,  in  a  calm 
voice,  "  against  the  interpretation  which  might  be  put  by 
society  on  your  imprudence  and  your  rashness.  Your  rather 
too  lively  conversation  this  evening  with  Count  Vronsky  "  — 
he  pronounced  this  name  slowly  and  distinctly  —  "attracted 
attention." 

As  he  spoke,  he  looked  at  Anna's  laughing  eyes,  for  him 
so  impenetrable,  and  saw,  with  a  feeling  of  terror,  all  the 
idleness  and  uselessuess  of  his  words. 

"You  are  always  like  this,"  she  said,  as  though  she  had 
comprehended  absolutely  nothing,  and  attached  no  impor- 
tance except  to  a  part  of  his  speech.  "  Sometimes  you  don't 
like  it  because  I  am  bored,  and  sometimes  because  I  have  a 
good  time.  I  was  not  bored  this  evening  :  has  that  disturbed 
you?" 

AlekseM  Aleksandrovitch  trembled :  again  he  twisted  his 
fingers  till  the  knuckles  cracked. 

"Ach!  I  beg  of  you,  keep  your  hands  still :  I  detest  that," 
said  she. 


158  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

"Anna,  is  this  you?"  said  Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch,  try- 
ing to  control  himself,  and  stop  the  movement  of  his  hands. 

"  Da!  but  what  is  it?"  she  asked,  with  a  sincere  and  al- 
most comic  astonishment.  "  What  do  you  want  of  me?  " 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  was  silent,  and  passed  his  hand 
across  his  brow  and  over  his  eyes.  He  felt  that  instead  of 
having  warned  his  wife  of  her  errors  in  the  sight  of  the  world, 
he  was  agitated  at  what  concerned  her  conscience,  and  was 
perhaps  striking  some  imaginary  obstacle. 

"  This  is  what  I  wanted  to  say,"  he  continued,  in  a  cool 
and  tranquil  tone,  "and  I  beg  you  to  listen  to  me  until  I 
have  done.  As  you  know,  I  look  upon  jealousy  as  a  humili- 
ating and  wounding  sentiment  which  I  would  never  allow 
myself  to  be  led  awaj*  by,  but  there  are  certain  social  barriers 
which  one  cannot  cross  with  impunity.  This  evening,  judging 
by  the  impression  which  you  made,  —  I  am  not  the  only  one, 
everybody  noticed  it,  —  you  did  not  conduct  yourself  at  all  in 
a  proper  manner." 

"  Decidedly  I  did  not  please  anybody,"  said  Anna,  shrug- 
ging her  shoulders.  "  He  does  not  really  care,"  she 
thought:  "  all  he  fears  is  the  opinion  of  the  world.  —  You 
are  not  well,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,"  she  added,  rising,  and 
turning  to  go  to  her  room. 

But  he  stepped  up  to  her,  and  held  her  back.  Never  had 
Anna  seen  his  face  so  displeased  and  angry :  she  remained 
on  her  feet,  tipping  her  head  to  one  side,  while  with  quick 
fingers  she  began  to  pull  out  the  hair-pins. 

"  Nu-s!  I  hear  you,"  she  said,  in  a  calm  tone  of  banter. 
"  I  shall  even  listen  with  interest,  because  I  should  like  to 
know  what  it's  all  about." 

She  herself  was  astonished  at  the  assurance  and  calm 
naturalness  which  she  put  on,  as  well  as  at  her  choice  of 
words. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  examine  your  feelings.  I  think  it  is 
useless  and  even  dangerous,"  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  be- 
gan. "If  we  probe  too  deeply  into  our  hearts,  we  run  the 
risk  of  touching  on  what  we  ought  not  to  perceive.  Your 
feelings  concern  your  conscience.  But  in  presence  of  your- 
self, of  me,  and  of  God,  I  am  in  duty  bound  to  remind  you 
of  your  obligations.  Our  lives  are  united,  not  by  men,  but 
by  God.  Only  by  crime  can  this  bond  be  broken,  and  such 
a  crime  brings  its  own  punishment." 

"  I  don't  understand  at  all.     Ach!  Bozhe  moY,  how  sleepy 


ANNA  EARfiNINA. 

lam!"  said  Anna,  still  undoing  her  hair,  and  taking  out 
the  last  pin. 

"  Anna !  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  don't  speak  so,"  said  he 
gently.  "  Maybe  I  am  mistaken  ;  but  believe  me,  what  I 
say  to  you  is  as  much  for  your  advantage  as  for  mine : 
I  am  your  husband,  and  I  love  you." 

A  slight  frown  passed  over  Anna's  face,  and  the  mocking 
fire  disappeared  from  her  03*68  ;  but  the  word  "  love  "  irri- 
tated her.  "Love!"  she  thought:  "does  he  even  know 
what  it  means?  Is  it  possible  that  he  loves  me?  If  he  had 
never  heard  of  love,  he  would  always  have  been  ignorant  that 
there  was  such  a  word." 

"  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  honestly,  I  don't  know  what 
you  mean,"  she  said.  "  Make  clear  to  me  that  you  find  "  — 

"  Allow  me  to  finish.  I  love  you,  but  I  am  not  speaking 
for  myself  :  those  who  are  chiefly  interested  are  your  son  and 
yourself.  It  is  quite  possible,  I  repeat,  that  my  words  may 
seem  idle  and  ill-judged :  possibly  they  are  the  result  of 
mistake  on  my  part.  In  that  case,  I  beg  your  forgiveness  ; 
but  you  yourself  must  feel  that  there  is  some  foundation  for 
my  remarks,  and  I.  earnestly  urge  you  to  reflect,  and,  if  your 
heart  inclines  you,  to  confide  in  me  "  — 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  without  noticing  the  fact,  had 
spoken  a  very  different  discourse  from  the  one  that  he  had 
prepared. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say."  And  she  added  in  a  sprightly 
tone,  scarcely  hiding  a  smile,  "  Da!  it  is  truly  time  to  go 
to  bed." 

Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch  sighed,  and,  without  speaking 
further,  went  to  his  room. 

When  she  reached  the  room,  he  was  already  in  bed.  His 
lips  were  sternly  set,  and  he  did  not  look  at  her.  Anna  got 
into  bed,  expecting  that  he  would  speak  to  her ;  she  both 
feared  it  and  desired  it :  but  he  said  nothing. 

She  waited  long  without  moving,  and  then  forgot  all  about 
him.  The  image  of  another  filled  her  with  emotion  and  with 
guilty  joy.  Suddenly  she  heard  a  slow  and  regular  sound  of 
snoring.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  at  first  was  startled  him- 
self, and  stopped ;  but  at  the  end  of  a  second  the  snoring 
began  again  with  monotonous  regularity. 

"Too  late!  too  late!  "  thought  she,  with  a  smile.  She 
remained  for  a  long  time  thus,  motionless,  with  open  eyes, 
the  shining  of  which  it  seemed  to  her  she  herself  could  see. 


160  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 


X. 

FROM  this  evening  a  new  life  began  for  Aleks£i  Aleksan- 
drovitch  and  his  wife.  There  was  no  outward  sign  of  it. 
Anna  continued  to  go  into  society,  and  especially  affected 
the  Princess  Betsy ;  and  everywhere  she  met  Vronsky. 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  understood  it,  but  was  powerless  to 
prevent  it.  Whenever  he  tried  to  bring  about  an  explanation, 
she  met  him  with  an  affectation  of  humorous  surprise  which 
was  absolutely  beyond  his  penetration. 

No  change  took  place  to  outward  observation,  but  their 
relations  were  extremely  variable.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch, 
a  remarkably  strong  man  in  matters  requiring  statesmanship, 
here  found  himself  at  his  wits'  end.  He  waited  for  the 
final  blow  with  head  bent,  and  with  the  resignation  of  an  ox 
led  to  slaughter.  When  these  thoughts  came  to  him,  he  told 
himself  that  once  more  he  must  try  gentleness,  tenderness, 
reason,  to  save  Anna,  and  bring  her  back  to  him.  Every  day 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  speak  ;  but  as  soon  as  he  made  the 
attempt,  the  same  evil  spirit  of  falsehood  which  possessed 
her,  seemed  to  la}-  hold  of  him,  and  he  spoke  not  at  all  in  the 
tone  in  which  he  meant  to  speak.  Involuntarily,  what  he 
said  was  spoken  in  his  tone  of  raillery,  which  seemed  to  cast 
ridicule  on  those  who  would  speak  as  he  did.  And  this  tone 
was  not  at  all  suitable  for  the  expression  of  the  thoughts  that 
he  wished  to  express. 

XI. 

WHAT  had  been  for  Vronsky  for  nearly  a  year  the  only 
and  absolute  aim  of  his  life,  was  for  Anna  a  dream  of 
happiness,  all  the  more  enchanting  because  it  seemed  to  her 
unreal  and  terrible.  It  was  like  a  dream.  At  last  the 
waking  came,  and  a  new  life  began  for  her  with  a  sentiment 
of  moral  decadence.  She  felt  the  impossibility  of  expressing 
the  shame,  the  horror,  the  joy,  that  were  now  her  portion. 
Rather  than  put  her  feelings  into  idle  and  fleeting  words,  she 
preferred  to  keep  silent.  As  time  went  on,  words  fit  to  ex- 
press the  complexity  of  her  sensations  still  failed  to  come 
to  her,  and  even  her  thoughts  were  incapable  of  translating 
the  impressions  of  her  heart.  She  hoped  that  calmness  and 
peace  would  come  to  her,  but  they  held  aloof.  Whenever  she 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  161 

thought  of  the  past,  and  thought  of  the  future,  and  thought 
of  her  own  fate,  she  was  seized  with  fear,  and  tried  to  drive 
these  thoughts  away. 

"  By  and  by,  by  and  by,"  she  repeated,  "  when  I  am 
calmer." 

On  the  other  hand,  when  during  sleep  she  lost  all  control 
of  her  imagination,  her  situation  appeared  in  its  frightful 
reality :  almost  every  night  she  had  the  same  dream.  She 
dreamed  that  she  was  the  wife  both  of  Vronsky  and  of 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch.  And  it  seemed  to  her  that  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  kissed  her  hands,  and  said,  weeping,  "  How 
happy  we  are  now!  "  And  Aleksei  Vronsky,  he,  also,  was 
her  husband.  She  was  amazed  that  she  could  believe  such 
a  thing  impossible ;  and  she  laughed  when  she  seemed  to 
explain  to  them  that  every  thing  would  simplify  itself,  and 
that  both  would  henceforth  be  satisfied  and  happy.  But  this 
dream  weighed  on  her  spirits  like  a  nightmare,  and  she 
always  awoke  in  fright. 

XII.      . 

IN  the  first  weeks  after  Levin  returned  from  Moscow, 
every  time  that  with  blushes  and  a  trembling  in  his  limbs  he 
remembered  the  shame  of  his  rejection,  he  would  say  to  him- 
self, "  I  suffered  like  this,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  ruined,  when 
I  was  rejected  on  account  of  my  physical  condition,  and  had 
to  go  into  the  second  class ;  and  it  was  the  same  when  I 
bungled  in  my  sister's  affairs,  which  were  confided  to  me. 
And  now?  Now  the  j-ears  have  gone  by,  and  I  look  back 
with  astonishment  on  those  young  tribulations.  It  will  be 
just  the  same  with  my  disappointment  this  time.  Time  will 
pass,  and  I  shall  grow  callous." 

But  three  months  passed  away,  and  the  callousness  did 
not  come,  and  his  pain  remained  as  severe  as  on  the  first 
day.  What  troubled  him  the  most  was,  that  after  dreaming 
so  long  of  family  life,  after  being,  as  he  thought,  so  well 
prepared  for  it,  not  only  was  he  not  married,  but  found  him- 
self farther  than  ever  from  the  goal  of  marriage.  Almost 
painfully  he  felt,  as  those  around  him  felt,  that  it  is  not  good 
for  man  to  live  alone.  He  remembered  that  before  his 
departure  for  Moscow  he  had  said  to  his  skotnik  [cowhei'd], 
Nikolai',  a  clever  muzhik  with  whom  he  liked  to  talk,  "Do 
you  know,  Nikolai,  I  am  thinking  of  getting  married?" 


162  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

whereupon  Nikolai  had  replied  instantly  without  hesitation, 
"  This  ought  to  have  been  long  ago,  Koustantin  Dmitritch." 
And  now  never  had  he  been  so  far  from  marriage.  The 
place  was  taken  :  and  if  he  had  been  able  to  settle  upon  some 
young  girl  of  his  acquaintance,  he  felt  the  impossibility  of 
putting  Kitty  out  of  his  heart ;  the  memories  of  the  past 
still  tormented  him.  It  was  idle  to  say  that  he  had  com- 
mitted no  sin  :  he  blushed  at  these  memories  as  deeply  as 
though  they  had  been  the  most  disgraceful  of  his  life.  The 
feeling  of  his  humiliation,  slight  as  it  really  was,  weighed 
heavier  on  his  conscience  than  any  of  the  evil  deeds  of  his 
past.  It  was  a  wound  that  refused  to  heal. 

Time  and  labor,  however,  brought  their  balm  :  the  painful 
impressions  little  by  little  began  to  fade  in  presence  of  the 
events  of  the  country  life,  important  in  reality,  in  spite  of 
their  apparent  insignificance.  Every  week  brought  some- 
thing by  which  to  remember  Kitty :  he  even  began  to  await 
with  impatience  the  news  of  her  marriage,  hoping  that  this 
event  would  bring  healing  in  the  same  way  as  the  pulling  of 
a  tooth. 

Meantime  spring  came,  beautiful,  friendly,  without  treach- 
ery or  false  promises,  —  a  spring  such  as  fills  plants  and 
animals,  no  less  than  men,  with  joy.  This  splendid  season 
gave  Levin  new  zeal :  it  confirmed  his  resolution  to  tear  him- 
self from  the  past  so  as  to  re-organize  his  life  on  conditions 
of  permanence  and  independence.  The  plans  that  he  had 
formed  on  his  return  to  the  country  had  not  all  been  realized, 
but  what  was  most  essential,  the  purity  of  his  life  had  not 
been  stained.  He  could  look  in  the  faces  of  those  who  sur- 
rounded him  without  any  humiliating  sense  of  having  fallen, 
or  any  loss  of  self-esteem. 

Towards  the  month  of  February,  Marya  Nikolayevna  had 
written  him  that  his  brother's  health  was  failing,  and  that 
it  was  impossible  to  take  proper  care  of  him.  This  letter 
brought  him  immediate!}'  to  Moscow,  where  he  persuaded 
Nikolai  to  consult  a  physician,  and  then  to  take  the  baths 
abroad :  he  even  induced  him  to  accept  a  loan  for  the  jour- 
ney. Under  these  circumstances  he  could,  therefore,  be  sat- 
isfied with  himself.  Besides  his  farm-labors  and  his  ordinary 
reading,  Levin  undertook,  during  the  winter,  a  stud}7  of  rural 
economy,  in  which  he  began  with  this  premise,  that  the 
laborer's  temperament  is  a  more  important  factor  than  cli- 
mate or  the  nature  of  the  soil :  agronomic  science,  according 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  163 

to  him,  must  not  neglect  either  of  these  three  equally  im- 
portant elements. 

His  life,  therefore,  was  very  busy  and  full,  in  spite  of  his 
loneliness :  the  only  thing  that  he  felt  the  lack  of  was  the 
possibility  of  sharing  the  ideas  that  came  to  him  with  any 
one  besides  his  old  nurse.  However,  he  brought  himself  to 
discuss  with  her  about  physics,  the  theories  of  rural  economy, 
and,  above  all,  philosophy,  which  was  Agafya  Mikhailovna's 
favorite  subject." 

The  spring  was  rather  late.  During  the  last  weeks  of 
Lent  the  weather  was  clear,  but  cold.  Though  during  the 
day  the  snow  melted  in  the  sun,  at  night  the  mercury  went 
down  to  seven  degrees :  the  crust  on  the  snow  was  so  thick 
that  wheels  did  not  sink  through. 

It  snowed  on  Easter  Sunday.  Then  suddenl}-,  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  a  south  wind  blew  up,  the  clouds  drifted  over, 
and  for  three  days  and  three  nights  a  warm  and  heavy  rain 
fell  ceaselessly.  On  Thursday  the  wind  went  down,  and 
then  over  the  earth  was  spread  a  thick  gray  mist,  as  if  to 
conceal  the  mysteries  that  were  accomplishing  in  nature : 
the  ice,  in  every  direction,  was  melting  and  disappearing,  the 
rivers  overflowed  their  banks,  the  brooks  came  tumbling 
down,  with  foamy,  muddy  waters.  Towards  evening  the 
Red  Hill  began  to  show  through  the  fog,  the  clouds  drifted 
away,  like  white  sheep,  and  spring,  spring  in  reality,  was 
there  in  all  her  brilliancy.  The  next  morning  a  bright  sun 
melted  away  the  thin  scales  of  ice  which  still  remained,  and 
the  warm  atmosphere  grew  moist  with  the  vapors  rising  from 
the  earth  ;  the  dry  grass  immediately  took  a  greenish  tint, 
and  the  young  blades  began  to  peep  from  the  sod,  like  mil- 
lions of  tiny  needles  ;  the  buds  on  the  birch-trees,  the  goose- 
berry bushes,  and  the  snowball-trees,  swelled  with  sap,  and 
around  their  branches  swarms  of  hone3^-bees  buzzed  in  the 
sun.  Invisible  larks  sent  forth  their  songs  of  joy,  to  see  the 
prairies  freed  from  snow  ;  the  lapwings  seemed  to  mourn  for 
their  mai-shes,  submerged  by  the  stormy  waters  ;  the  wild 
swans  and  geese  flew  high  in  the  air,  with  their  calls  of 
spring.  The  cows,  with  rough  hair,  and  places  worn  bare 
by  the  stanchions,  lowed  as  they  left  their  stalls  ;  around 
the  heavy-fleeced  sheep  gambolled  awkwardly  the  young 
lambs  ;  children  ran  barefoot  over  the  wet  paths,  where  their 
footprints  were  left  like  fossils  ;  the  peasant-women  gossij)ed 
gayly  around  the  edge  of  the  pond,  where  they  were  bleach- 


164  ANNA  KAKtiNINA. 

ing  their  linen ;  from  all  sides  resounded  the  axes  of  the 
muzhiks,  repairing  their  sokhi  (Russian  ploughs)  and  their 
wagons.  Spring  had  really  come. 


XIII. 

FOR  the  first  time  Levin  left  off  his  sliuba  [fur  cloak],  and 
clad  more  lightly,  and  shod  in  his  heavy  boots,  he  went  out, 
tramping  through  the  brooklets,  as  they  glanced  in  the  sun, 
and  stepping,  now  on  a  cake  of  ice,  and  now  in  deep  mud. 

Spring  is  the  epoch  of  plans  and  projects.  Levin,  as  he 
went  out,  was  not  decided  upon  what  he  would  first  take  in 
hand,  any  more  than  the  tree  knows  how  and  why  the  young 
sprouts  push  out,  and  the  young  branches  clothe  themselves 
with  buds ;  but  he  felt  that  he  was  going  to  originate  the 
most  charming  projects  and  the  most  sensible  plans. 

He  went  first  to  see  his  cattle.  The  cows  were  let  out 
into  the  yard,  and  were  warming  themselves  in  the  sun,  low- 
ing as  if  to  beg  permission  to  go  out  to  pasture.  Levin 
knew  them  all,  even  to  the  least.  He  examined  them  with 
satisfaction,  and  gave  orders  to  the  enraptured  cowboy  to  take 
them  to  pasture,  and  to  let  out  the  calves.  The  milkmaids, 
gathering  up  their  petticoats,  and  leaping  into  the  mud  with 
bare  feet,  white  as  yet,  and  free  from  tan,  chased  the  frisky 
calves  about,  and  with  dry  sticks  kept  them  from  escaping 
from  the  yard. 

The  yearlings  were  uncommonly  beautiful ;  the  oldest  had 
already  reached  the  size  of  ordinary  cows :  and  Pava's 
daughter,  three  months  old,  was  as  big  as  a  yearling.  Levin 
admired  them,  and  ordered  their  troughs  to  be  brought  out, 
and  their  food  to  be  given  them  in  reslidiki.  He  found,  how- 
ever, that  these  reshdtki,  or  portable  palisades,  which  had 
been  made  in  the  autumn,  were  out  of  repair  because  they 
had  not  been  needed.  He  had  the  carpenter  sent  for,  who 
was  supposed  to  be  busy  repairing  the  threshing-machine ; 
but  he  was  not  there.  He  was  repairing  the  ploughs,  which 
should  have  been  done  during  Lent.  Levin  was  veiy  indig- 
nant. Oh  this  everlasting  procrastination,  against  which  he 
had  so  long  struggled  in  vain !  The  reshdtki,  as  he  soon 
learned,  not  having  been  in  use  during  the  winter,  had  been 
carried  to  the  stable,  where,  as  they  were  of  light  construc- 
tion, they  had  been  broken. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  165 

As  to  the  ploughs  and  harrows,  which  should  have  been  put 
in  order  during  the  winter  months,  —  and  he  had  hired  three 
carpenters,  —  nothing  at  all  was  in  proper  condition.  Levin 
summoned  the  prikashchik :  then,  angry  at  the  delay,  he  him- 
self went  in  search  of  him.  The  prikashchik,  as  radiant  as 
the  whole  universe,  came  at  his  master's  call,  dressed  in  a 
light  lambskin  tuluptchika,  twisting  a  straw  between  his 
fingers. 

kt  Why  isn't  the  carpenter  at  work  on  the  threshing-ma- 
chine?" 

"  Da!  that  is  what  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  Konstantin  Dmi- 
tritch:  the  ploughs  had  to  be  repaired!  We've  got  to 
plough." 

"  Dal  what  have  you  been  doing  this  winter  ?  " 

"  Da!  but  why  do  you  have  such  a  carpenter?  " 

"  Where  are  the  reshdtki  for  the  calves?  " 

"I  ordered  them  to  be  put  in  place.  You  can't  do  any 
thing  with  such  people,"  replied  the  prikashchik,  making 
with  his  hands  a  gesture  of  despair. 

"It  is  not  these  people,  but  this  prikashchik,  with  whom 
nothing  can  be  done,"  said  Levin,  getting  still  more  angry. 
"  Nu !  what  do  we  pay  you  for?  "  he  shouted  ;  but  recollect- 
ing that  shouts  did  not  do  any  good,  he  stopped,  and  con- 
tented himself  with  a  sigh.  "  Nu!  can  you  get  the  seed  in 
yet?  "  he  demanded,  after  a  moment  of  silence. 

"  Back  of  Turkino  we  could  to-morrow,  or  the  day  after." 

"  And  the  clover?  " 

"  I  sent  Vasili  and  Mishka  to  sow  it,  but  I  don't  know 
whether  they  succeeded  :  the  ground  isn't  thawed  out  yet." 

4 '  On  how  many  desyatins  ?  ' ' 

"Six"   [14^  acres]. 

"Why  not  the  whole?"  cried  Levin  angrily.  He  was 
furious  to  learn,  that  instead  of  sowing  down  twenty-four 
desyatins,  they  had  only  planted  six  :  he  knew  by  his  own 
experience,  as  well  as  by  theory,  the  need  of  sowing  the 
clover-seed  as  early  as  possible  after  the  snow  was  gone,  and 
it  never  was  done. 

"  Not  enough  people.  What  can  you  do  with  these  men? 
The  three  hired  men  did  not  come  ;  and  then  Simon  "  — 

"  Nu!  you  would  better  have  taken  them  away  from  the 
straw." 

"  Da  !  I  did  that  very  thing." 

"  Where  are  all  the  people?  " 


166  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

"  There  are  five  at  the  compote  [he  meant  to  say  compost~\  : 
four  are  moving  the  oats,  so  that  they  should  not  spoil, 
Konstantin  Dmitri tch." 

Levin  knew  very  well  that  these  words,  "  So  that  it  should 
not  spoil,"  meant  that  his  English  oats  saved  for  seed  were 
already  ruined.  Again  they  had  disobeyed  his  orders. 

"Da!  But  did  I  not  tell  you  during  Lent  to  put  in  the 
veutilatiug-chimneys  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  Don't  you  be  troubled  :  we  will  do  all  in  good  time." 

Levin,  furious,  made  a  gesture  of  dissatisfaction,  and  went 
to  examine  his  oats  in  the  granary  :  then  he  went  to  the 
stables.  The  oats  were  not  yet  spoiled,  but  the  workmen 
were  stirring  them  up  with  shovels  instead  of  simply  letting 
it  down  from  one  story  to  the  other.  Levin  took  away  two 
hands  to  send  to  the  clover-field.  Little  by  little  his  spirit 
calmed  down  in  regard  to  his  prikashchik.  It  was  such  a 
lovely  day  that  one  could  not  keep  angiy.  "  Ignat,"  he 
cried  to  his  coachman,  who,  with  upturned  sleeves,  was 
washing  the  carriage  near  the  pump,  "  saddle  me  a  horse." 

"Which  one?" 

"Nul    Kolpik." 

"I  will  obey." 

While  the  saddle  was  being  adjusted,  Levin  called  the 
prikashchik,  who  was  busying  himself  in  his  vicinity,  hoping 
to  be  restored  to  favor.  He  spoke  with  him  about  the  work 
that  he  wanted  done  during  the  spring,  and  about  his  plans 
for  carrying  on  the  estate  ;  he  wanted  the  compost  spread  as 
soon  as  possible,  so  as  to  have  this  work  done  before  the  first 
mowing  ;  then  he  wanted  the  farthest  field  ploughed,  so  that 
it  might  be  left  fallow.  All  the  fields  —  not  half  of  them  — 
should  be  attended  with  the  laborers. 

The  prikashchik  listened  attentively,  doing  his  best  evi- 
dently to  approve  of  his  master's  plans.  But  his  face  was 
so  long  and  melancholy,  that  he  alwa3-s  seemed  to  say, 
"This  is  all  very  well  and  good,  but  as  God  shall  give." 

This  tone  vexed  and  almost  discouraged  Levin,  but  it  was 
common  to  all  the  prikashchiks  that  had  ever  been  in  his  ser- 
vice. They  all  received  his  projects  with  a  dejected  air ;  and 
so  he  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  get  vexed  about  it,  and 
he  did  his  best  to  struggle  against  this  unhappy  "As  God 
shall  give,"  which  he  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  elementary 
obstacle  fated  to  oppose  him  everywhere. 

"If  we  have  time,  Konstantin  Dmitritch." 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  167 

"  Why  shall  we  not  have  time?  " 

"We  shall  have  to  hire  fifteen  more  workmen,  but  we 
can't  get  them.  One  came  to-day  who  asked  seventy  rubles 
for  the  summer." 

Levin  did  not  speak.  Always  the  same  stumbling-block. 
He  knew  that  however  he  might  exert  himself,  he  never 
could  hire  more  than  thirty-seven  or  thirty-eight  laborers  at 
a  reasonable  price :  once  or  twice  he  had  succeeded  in  get- 
ting forty,  never  more  ;  but  he  wanted  to  try  it  again. 

"Send  to  Suri,  to  Chefirovka:  if  they  don't  come,  we 
must  go  for  them." 

"I'm  going  to  go,"  said  Vasili  Fedorovitch  gloomily. 
"  Da  vot!  The  horses  are  very  feeble." 

"Buy  some  more:  da!  but  I  know,"  he  added  with  a 
laugh,  "that  you  will  do  as  little  and  as  badly  as  yon  can. 
However,  I  warn  you  that  I  will  not  let  you  do  as  you  please 
this  year.  I  shall  take  the  reins  in  my  own  hands." 

"Da!  but  you  sleep  too  much,  it  seems  to  me.  We  are 
very  happy  to  be  under  our  master's  eyes  "  — 

"  Now,  have  the  clover  put  in  on  the  Berezof  land,  and  I 
shall  come  myself  to  inspect  it,"  said  he.  mounting  his  little 
horse,  Kolpik,  which  the  coachman  brought  up. 

"  Don't  go  across  the  brooks,  Koustantin  Dinitritch," 
cried  the  coachman. 

"Nu!     By  the  woods." 

And  on  his  little,  easy-going  ambler,  which  whinneyed  as 
it  came  to  the  pools,  and  which  pulled  on  the  bridle  in  the 
joy  of  quitting  the  stable,  Levin  rode  out  of  the  muddy 
court-yard,  and  picked  his  way  across  the  open  fields. 

The  joyous  feeling  that  he  had  experienced  at  the  house 
and  the  barn-yard  increased  all  the  time.  The  loping  of  his 
excellent,  gentle  ambler  swung  his  body  gently  to  and  fro. 
He  drank  in  great  draughts  of  warm  air,  slightly  freshened 
by  the  chill  snow  which  still  lay  on  the  ground  in  spots. 
Every  one  of  his  trees,  with  greening  moss,  and  buds  ready  to 
burst,  filled  his  heart  with  pleasure.  As  he  came  out  on  the 
enormous  stretch  of  the  fields,  they  seemed  like  an  immense 
carpet  of  velvet  where  there  was  not  a  bare  spot  or  a  marsh, 
but  here  and  there  patches  of  snow.  The  sight  of  a  peas- 
ant's mare  and  colt  treading  down  his  fields  did  not  anger 
him,  but  he  ordered  a  passing  muzhik  to  drive  them  out. 
With  the  same  gentleness  he  received  the  sarcastic  and 
impudent  answer  of  a  peasant.  He  said,  "  Ipat,  shall  we 


168  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

put  in  the  seed  before  very  long?  "  And  Ipat  replied,  "  We 
must  plough  first,  Konstantin  Dmitritch."  The  farther  he 
went,  the  more  his  good-humor  increased,  and  the  more  his 
plans  for  improving  his  estate  developed,  each  seeming  to 
surpass  the  other  in  wisdom, — to  protect  the  fields  on  the 
south  by  lines  of  trees  which  would  keep  the  snow  from 
staying  too  long  ;  to  divide  his  arable  fields  into  nine  parts, 
six  of  which  should  be  well  dressed,  and  the  other  three 
devoted  to  fodder ;  to  build  a  cow-yard  in  the  farthest  cor- 
ner of  the  estate,  and  have  a  pond  dug ;  to  have  portable 
enclosures  for  the  cattle,  so  as  to  utilize  the  manure ;  and 
thus  to  cultivate  three  hundred  desyatins  of  wheat,  a  hun- 
dred desyatins  of  potatoes,  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  of 
clover,  without  exhausting  the  soil. 

Full  of  these  reflections,  he  picked  his  way  carefully  along 
so  as  not  to  harm  his  fields :  he  at  last  reached  the  place 
where  the  laborers  were  sowing  the  clover.  The  telyega 
loaded  with  seed,  instead  of  being  hauled  on  the  road,  had 
been  driven  out  into  the  middle  of  the  field,  leaving  heavy 
wheel-tracks  over  his  winter  wheat,  which  the  horse  was 
trampling  down  with  his  feet.  The  two  laborers,  sitting  by 
the  roadside,  were  smoking  their  pipes.  The  clover-seed, 
instead  of  having  been  sifted,  was  thrown  into  the  telyega 
mixed  with  hard  and  dry  lumps  of  dirt. 

Seeing  the  master  coming,  the  laborer  Vasili  started  towards 
the  telyega,  and  Mishka  began  to  sow.  This  was  all  wrong, 
but  Levin  rarely  got  angry  with  his  muzhiks.  When  he 
reached  Vasili,  he  ordered  him  to  take  the  horse  out  of  the 
telyega,  and  lead  him  to  the  roadside. 

"  It  won't  do  any  harm,  sir :  it  will  spring  up  again." 

"  Obey  me,  without  discussing,"  replied  Levin. 

"  I  will  obey,"  said  Vasili,  taking  the  horse  by  the  head. 
"What  splendid  seed,  Konstantin  Dimtritch,"  he  added,  to 
regain  favor.  "  I  never  saw  any  better.  But  it  is  slow 
work.  The  soil  is  so  heavy,  that  you  seem  to  drag  a  pud 
on  each  foot." 

"  Why  wasn't  the  field  harrowed?"  demanded  Levin. 

"  Oh  !  it'll  come  out  all  right,"  replied  Vasili,  taking  up  a 
handful  of  seed,  and  rubbing  it  between  his  fingers. 

It  was  not  Vasili' s  fault  that  the  field  had  not  been  har- 
rowed, or  the  seed  sifted ;  but  Levin  was  not  less  provoked. 
He  dismounted,  and,  taking  the  seed-cod  from  Vasili,  began 
to  sow  the  clover. 


ANNA  EARtiNINA.  169 

"  Where  did  you  stop?  " 

Vasili  touched  the  spot  with  his  foot,  and  Levin  went  on 
with  the  work  as  best  he  could  ;  but  it  was  as  hard  as  wading 
through  a  marsh,  and  after  a  little  he  stopped  all  in  a  sweat, 
and  returned  the  seed-cod  to  the  muzhik. 

"  Nu!  Bar  in  [Lord],  I  don't  like  to  do  slack  work,"  said 
Vasili  in  his  muzhik  dialect.  "  What  is  good  for  the  master 
is  good  for  us.  And  look  yonder  at  that  field :  the  sight  of 
it  delights  my  heart." 

"  It  is  a  fine  spring." 

11  Da!  it  is  such  a  spring  as  our  forbears  never  saw.  I 
was  at  our  village,  and  our  starik  [elder]  has  already  put  in 
his  Turkish  wheat,  as  he  says  he  can  hardly  tell  it  from  rye." 

"  But  how  long  have  you  been  sowing  Turkish  wheat?  " 

"  It  was  you  yourself  who  taught  us  how  to  sow  it.  You 
gave  us  two  measures  last  year. ' ' 

"  Nu!  look  here,"  said  Levin,  as  he  started  to  mo'unt  his 
ambler,  "  look  at  Mishka ;  and  if  the  seed  comes  up  well, 
you  shall  have  fifty  kopeks  a  desyatin"  [40  cents  for  2.7 
acres] . 

"  We  thank  you  humbly  :  we  should  be  content  even  with- 
out that." 

Levin  mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  off  to  visit  his  last-year's 
clover-field,  and  then  to  the  field  which  was  already  ploughed 
ready  for  the  summer  wheat.  Levin  rode  back  by  way  of  the 
brooks,  hoping  to  find  the  water  lower :  in  fact,  he  found  that 
he  could  get  across ;  and,  as  he  waded  through,  he  scared  up 
a  couple  of  wild  ducks. 

"There  ought  to  be  snipe,"  he  thought;  and  a  forester, 
whom  he  met  on  his  way  to  the  house,  confirmed  his  suppo- 
sition. 

He  immediately  spurred  up  his  horse,  so  as  to  get  back  in 
time  for  dinner,  and  to  prepare  his  gun  for  the  evening. 


XIV. 

JUST  as  Levin  reached  home,  in  the  best  humor  in  the 
world,  he  heard  the  jingling  of  bells  at  the  side  entrance. 

"Da!  some  one  from  the  railroad  station,"  was  his  first 
thought:  "it's  time  for  the  Moscow  train. —  Who  can 
have  come?  brother  Nikolai?  Did  he  not  say,  that  instead 
of  going  abroad  he  might  perhaps  come  to  see  me?  " 


170  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

For  a  moment  it  occurred  to  him  that  this  visit  might  spoil 
his  plans  for  the  spring  ;  but,  disgusted  at  the  selfishness  of 
this  thought,  his  mind  instantly  received  his  brother  with 
open  arms,  so  to  speak,  and  he  began  to  hope,  with  affec- 
tionate joy,  that  it  was  really  he  whom  the  bell  announced. 

He  quickened  his  horse,  and  as  he  came  out  from  behind 
a  hedge  of  acacias,  which  hid  the  house  from  his  sight,  he 
saw  a  traveller,  dressed  in  a  shuba,  sitting  in  a  hired  troika 
[three-span].  It  was  not  his  brother. 

"I  only  hope  it  is  some  one  whom  I  can  talk  with,"  he 
thought. 

"Ah  !"  he  cried,  as  he  recognized  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
"here  is  the  most  delectable  of  guests.  Ach!  how  glad  I 
am  to  see  you  !  —  I  shall  certainly  learn  from  him  if  Kitty 
is  married,"  he  added,  to  himself. 

Not  even  the  memory  of  Kitty  pained  him  this  splendid 
spring  morning. 

"You  scarcely  expected  me,  I  suppose,"  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  leaping  out  of  the  sledge,  his  face  spotted 
with  mud,  but  radiant  with  health  and  pleasure.  "I  am 
come,  first,  to  see  you  ;  secondly,  to  fire  off  a  gun  or  two ; 
and  thirdly,  to  sell  my  wood  at  Yergushovo." 

"Perfect,  isn't  it?  What  do  you  think  of  this  spring? 
But  how  could  you  have  got  here  in  a  sledge?  " 

"  Sledge  is  better  than  telytga,  Konstantin  Dmitritch." 
replied  the  driver,  who  was  an  old  acquaintance. 

"Nu!  Indeed,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  again,"  said 
Levin,  with  a  smile  of  boyish  joy. 

He  conducted  his  guest  to  the  room  which  was  always 
kept  in  readiness  for  visitors,  and  instantly  had  the  traps 
brought  up,  —  a  gripsack,  a  gun  in  its  case,  and  a  box  of 
cigars.  Levin,  leaving  him  to  wash  and  dress  himself,  went 
out  to  see  the  irrikashchik,  and  deliver  his  mind  about  the 
clover  and  the  ploughing. 

Agafya  Mikhailovna,  who  had  very  much  at  heart  the 
honor  of  the  mansion,  stopped  him  on  his  way  through  the 
entry,  and  asked  him  a  few  questions  about  dinner.  "  Do 
just  as  you  please,"  replied  Levin,  as  he  went  out,  "only 
make  haste  about  it." 

When  he  returned,  Stepan  Arkad}Tevitch,  smiling  after  his 
toilet,  was  just  coming  out  of  his  room,  and  together  they 
went  up-stairs. 

"  Nu!  I  am  very  happy  to  have  got  out  to  your  house  at 


ANNA   KARfiNlNA.  171 

last.  I  shall  now  learn  the  mystery  of  your  existence. 
Truly,  1  envy  yon.  What  a  house !  How  convenient 
every  thing  is!  how  bright  and  delightful!"  said  Stepan 
Arkach'evitch,  forgetting  that  bright  days  and  the  spring- 
time were  not  always  there.  "'  And  your  old  nurse,  — what 
a  charming  old  soul !  All  that's  lacking  is  a  pretty  little 
chambermaid,  —  but  that  does  not  fall  in  with  your  severe 
and  monastic  style  ;  but  this  is  very  good." 

Among  other  interesting  news,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  told 
his  host  that  Sergei  Ivauovitch  expected  to  come  into  the 
country  this  summer ;  but  he  did  not  say  a  word  about  the 
Shcherbatskys,  and  he  simply  transmitted  his  wife's  cordial 
greeting.  Levin  appreciated  this  delicacy.  As  usual,  he  had 
stored  up  during  his  hours  of  solitude  a  throng  of  ideas  and 
impressions  which  he  could  not  share  with  any  of  his  domes- 
tics, and  which  he  poured  out  into  Oblonsky's  ears :  every- 
thing passed  under  review,  —  his  spring  joys,  his  plans  and 
farming  projects,  and  all  the  criticisms  on  the  books  about 
agriculture  which  he  had  read,  and  above  all  the  skeleton  of 
a  work  which  he  himself  proposed  to  write,  on  the  subject 
of  the  rural  commune.  Stepau  Arkadyevitch,  amiable,  aud 
always  ready  to  grasp  a  point,  showed  unusual  cordiality ; 
and  Levin  even  thought  that  he  noticed  a  certain  flattering 
consideration  and  an  undertone  of  tenderness  in  his  bearing. 

The  united  efforts  of  Agafya  Mikhailovna  and  the  cook 
resulted  in  the  two  friends,  who  were  half  starved,  betaking 
themselves  to  the  zakuska  [lunch-table]  before  the  soup  was 
served,  and  devouring  bread  and  butter,  cold  chicken  and 
salted  mushrooms,  and  finally  in  Levin  calling  for  the  soup 
before  the  little  pasties,  prepared  by  the  cook  in  the  hope  of 
dazzling  the  guest,  were  done.  But  Stepau  Arkadyevitch, 
though  he  was  used  to  different  kinds  of  dinners,  found 
every  thing  exactly  to  his  mind :  the  home-brewed  liquors, 
the  bread,  the  butter,  and  especially  the  cold  chicken,  the 
mushrooms,  the  shchi  [cabbage-soup],  the  fowl  with  white 
sauce,  aud  the  Krimean  wine,  were  delicious. 

"Perfect!  perfect!"  he  cried,  as  he  lit  a  big  cigarette 
after  the  second  course.  "  I  feel  as  if  I  had  escaped  the 
shocks  and  noise  of  a  ship,  and  had  landed  on  a  peaceful 
shore.  And  so  you  say  that  the  element  represented  by  the 
workingman  ought  to  be  studied  above  all  others,  and  be 
taken  as  a  guide  in  the  choice  of  economic  expedients.  I 
ana  a  profanus  in  these  questions,  but  it  seems  to  me  that 


172  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

this  theory  and  its  applications  would  have  an  influence  on 
the  workingman  "  — 

"  Yes ;  but  hold  on :  I  am  not  speaking  of  political 
economy,  but  of  rural  economy,  considered  as  a  science. 
You  must  study  the  premises,  the  phenomena,  just  the  same 
as  in  the  natural  sciences  ;  and  the  workingman,  from  the 
economical  and  ethnographical  point  of  view  "  — 

But  here  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna  entered  with  the  dessert  of 
preserves. 

"  Nu!  accept  my  compliments,  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna,"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  kissing  the  ends  of  his  hairy  fingers. 
"What  nice  pickles!  What  delicious  beer !  Well,  Kostia, 
isn't  it  time  to  go?  "  he  added. 

Levin  looked  out  of  the  window  towards  the  sun,  which 
was  sinking  behind  the  tree-tops,  still  bare  and  leafless. 

''  It  is  time.  Kuzma,  have  the  horses  hitched  up,"  he 
cried,  as  he  went  down-stairs.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  fol- 
lowed him,  and  set  to  work  carefully  to  remove  his  gim 
from  the  case :  it  was  a  gun  of  the  newest  pattern,  and  very 
expensive. 

Kuzma,  who  foresaw  a  generous  fee,  gave  him  assiduous 
attention,  and  helped  him  put  on  his  stockings  and  his  hunt- 
ing-boots ;  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  accepted  his  aid  com- 
placently. 

"  If  the  merchant  Rabinin  comes  while  we  are  gone,  Kos- 
tia, do  me  the  favor  to  have  him  kept  till  we  get  back." 

"  Are  you  going  to  sell  your  wood  to  Rabinin?  " 

"  Yes.     Do  }xm  know  him  ?  " 

"  Oh !  certainly  I  know  him.  I  have  done  business  with 
him,  positively  and  finally." 

Stepan  Arkad}'evitch  burst  into  a  laugh.  "  Positively  and 
finally  "  were  the  favorite  words  of  the  merchant. 

"Yes:  he  is  very  droll  in  his  speech! —  She  knows 
where  her  master  is  going,"  he  added,  patting  Laska,  who 
was  jumping  and  barking  around  Levin,  licking  now  his 
hand,  now  his  boots  and  gun. 

A  dolgusha  (hunting-wagon)  was  waiting  at  the  steps  as 
they  came  out. 

"  I  had  the  horses  put  in,  although  we  have  but  a  little 
distance  to  go,"  said  Levin  ;  "  but  if  you  would  rather  walk, 
we  can." 

"  No,  I  would  just  as  lief  ride,"  replied  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch, as  he  mounted  the  dolgusha.  He  sat  down,  tucking 


ANNA    KAItfiNINA.  173 

round  his  legs  a  striped  plaid,  and  lit  a  cigar.  "  How  can 
3-011  get  along  without  smoking,  Kostia?  A  cigar  —  it  is  not 
only  a  pleasure,  it  is  the  very  crown  and  sign  of  delight. 
This  is  life  indeed.  How  delicious !  Vot-bui,  I  should  like 
to  live  like  this." 

*•*  What's  to  prevent?  "  asked  Levin,  with  a  smile. 

"  Yes  ;  but  you  are  a  happy  man,  for  you  have  every  thing 
that  you  like.  You  like  horses,  you  have  them  ;  dogs,  you 
have  them  ;  hunting,  here  it  is  ;  an  estate,  here  it  is !  " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  enjoy  what  I  have,  and  don't 
covet  what  1  have  not."  replied  Levin,  with  Kitty  in  his 
mind. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  understood,  and  looked  at  him  with- 
out speaking. 

Levin  was  grateful  because  Oblonsky  had  not  yet  men- 
tioned the  Shcherbatskys,  and  had  understood,  with  his  usual 
tact,  that  it  was  a  subject  which  he  dreaded ;  but  now  he 
felt  anxious  to  find  out  how  matters  stood,  but  he  did  not 
like  to  inquire. 

"Nu!  how  go  your  affairs?"  he  asked  at  last,  blaming 
himself  for  thinking  only  of  his  selfish  interests. 

Oblonsky's  e\res  glistened  with  gayety. 

"  You  will  not  admit  that  one  can  want  hot  rolls  when  he 
has  his  monthly  rations  ;  in  your  eyes,  it  is  a  crime  :  but  for 
me,  I  cannot  admit  the  possibility  of  living  without  love," 
he  replied,  construing  Levin's  question  in  his  own  fashion. 
"  What  is  to  be  done  about  it?  I  am  so  constituted,  and  I 
can't  see  the  harm  that  it  does." 

"  What !  is  there  somebody  else?  "   Levin  demanded. 

''There  is,  brother!  You  know  the  type  of  the  women 
in  Ossian  ?  —  these  women  that  one  sees  only  in  dreams  ?  But 
they  really  exist,  and  are  terrible.  Woman,  you  see,  is  an 
inexhaustible  theme  :  you  can  never  cease  studying  it,  and  it 
always  presents  some  new  phase." 

"  So  much  the  better  not  to  study  it,  then." 

"  Not  at  all.  Some  matimatik  said  that  happiness  con- 
sisted in  searching  for  truth,  and  never  finding  it." 

Levin  listened,  and  said  no  more  ;  but  it  was  idle  for  him 
to  enter  into  his  friend's  soul,  and  understand  the  charm 
which  he  took  in  studies  of  this  sort. 


174  ANNA   EAR&NINA. 


XV. 

TITK  place  where  Levin  took  Oblonsky  was  not  far  away, 
by  a  shallow  stream,  flowing  through  an  aspen-grove  :  he 
posted  him  in  a  mossy  nook,  somewhat  marshy  where  the 
snow  had  just  melted.  He  himself  went  to  the  opposite 
side,  near  a  double  birch,  rested  his  gun  on  one  of  the  lower 
branches,  took  off  his  kaftan,  clasped  a  belt  about  his  waist, 
and  moved  his  arms  to  see  that  nothing  bound  him. 

Old  Laska,  following  him  step  by  step,  sat  down  cau- 
tiously in  front  of  him,  and  pricked  up  her  ears.  The  sun 
was  setting  behind  the  great  forest,  and  against  the  eastern 
sky  the  young  birches  and  aspens  stood  out  distinctly,  with 
their  bending  branches  and  their  swelling  buds. 

In  the  forest,  where  the  snow  still  lay,  the  sound  of  run- 
ning waters  could  be  heard :  little  birds  were  chirping,  and 
flying  from  tree  to  tree.  Sometimes  the  silence  seemed 
broken  only  by  the  rustling  of  the  dry  leaves,  moved  by  the 
thawing  earth  or  the  pushing  herbs. 

"  Why,  one  really  can  hear  the  grass  grow!  "  said  Levin 
to  himself,  as  he  saw  a  moist  and  slate-colored  aspen-leaf 
raised  by  the  blade  of  a  young  herb  starting  from  the  sod. 
He  was  on  his  feet,  listening  and  looking,  now  at  the  moss- 
covered  ground,  now  at  the  watchful  Laska,  now  at  the  bare 
tree-tops  of  the  forest,  which  swept  like  a  sea  to  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  and  now  at  the  darkening  sky,  where  floated  bits  of 
little  white  clouds.  A  vulture  flew  aloft,  slowly  flapping  his 
broad  wings  above  the  forest :  another  took  the  same  direc- 
tion and  disappeared.  In  the  thicket  the  birds  were  chirping 
louder  and  gayer  than  ever.  An  owl,  in  the  distance,  lifted 
his  voice.  Laska  pricked  up  her  ears  again,  took  two  or 
three  cautious  steps,  and  bent  her  head  to  listen.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  stream  a  cuckoo  twice  uttered  its  feeble 
notes,  and  then  ceased  hoarsely  and  timidly. 

"Why!  the  cuckoo  has  come!"  said  Stepau  Arkady e- 
vitch,  leaving  his  place. 

"Yes,  I  hear,"  said  Levin,  disgusted  that  the  silence  of 
the  forest  was  broken,  by  the  sound  even  of  his  own  voice. 

"  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  returned  to  his  place  behind  his 
thicket,  and  nothing  more  was  seen  of  him  except  the  flash 
of  a  match  and  the  red  glow  of  his  cigarette  and  a  light 
bluish  smoke. 


ANNA  KAittiNiNA.  175 

"  Tchik!  tchik !  "     Stepan  Arkadyevitch  cocked  his  gun. 

"  What  was  that  making  that  noise?  "  he  demanded  of  his 
companion,  attracting  his  attention  to  a  strange  sound,  like 
a  child  imitating  the  neighing  of  a  horse. 

li  Don't  you  know  what  that  is?  That  is  the  male  rabbit. 
Da!  don't  speak  tiny  more,"  cried  Levin,  in  turn  cocking 
his  gun.  A  whistle  was  heard  in  the  distance,  with  that 
rhythmic  regularity  which  the  huntsman  knows  so  well :  then 
a  moment  or  two  later  it  was  repeated  nearer,  and  suddenly 
changed  into  a  hoarse  little  cry.  Levin  turned  his  eyes  to  the 
right,  to  the  left,  and  finally  saw,  just  above  his  head,  against 
the  fading  blue  of  the  sky,  above  the  gently  waving  aspens, 
a  bird  Hying  towards  him  :  its  cry,  like  the  noise  made  by 
tearing  cloth,  rang  in  his  ears  ;  then  he  distinguished  the  long 
beak  and  the  long  neck  of  the  snipe,  but  hardly  had  he  caught 
sight  of  it  when  a  red  flash  shone  out  from  behind  Oblou- 
sky's  bush.  The  bird  fluttered  in  the  air,  as  though  struck, 
and  turned  to  fly  up  again  ;  but  again  the  light  flashed ;  and 
the  bird,  vainly  striving  to  rise,  flapped  its  wings  for  a  sec- 
ond and  fell  heavily  to  earth. 

"Did  I  miss?"  asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  who  could 
see  nothing  through  the  smoke. 

"  Here  she  is,"  cried  Levin,  pointing  to  Laska,  who  with 
one  ear  erect,  and  with  slightly  wagging  tail,  slowly,  as 
though  to  lengthen  out  the  pleasure,  came  back  with  the  bird 
in  her  mouth,  seeming  almost  to  smile  as  she  laid  the  game 
down  at  her  master's  feet. 

"  Nu!  I  am  glad  you  hit,"  said  Levin,  though  he  felt  a 
slight  sensation  of  envy. 

"The  left  barrel  missed:  beastly  gun !"  replied  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch.  "  Sh!  Here's  another." 

In  fact,  the  whistles  came  thicker  and  thicker,  rapid  and 
sharp.  Two  snipe  flew  over  the  hunters,  chasing  each  other  ; 
four  shots  rang  out ;  and  the  snipe,  turning  on  their  track 
like  swallows,  disappeared  from  sight. 

The  sport  was  excellent.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  killed  two 
others,  and  Levin  also  two,  one  of  which  was  lost.  It  grew 
darker  and  darker.  Venus,  with  silvery  light,  shone  out  in 
the  west ;  and  in  the  east,  Arclurtis  gleamed,  with  his  sombre, 
reddish  fire.  At  intervals,  Levin  saw  the  Great  Bear.  No 
more  snipe  appeared  ;  but  Levin  resolved  to  wait  until  Venus, 
which  was  visible  through  the  branches  of  his  birch-tree,  rose 


176  ANNA   EAR&NINA. 

clear  above  the  hills  on  the  horizon,  and  till  the  Great  Bear 
was  entirely  visible.  The  star  had  passed  beyond  the  birch- 
trees,  and  the  wain  of  the  Bear  was  shining  out  clear  in  the 
sky,  and  he  was  still  waiting. 

"  Isn't  it  getting  late?  "  asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

All  was  calm  in  the  forest :  not  a  bird  moved. 

"  Let  us  wait  a  little,"  replied  Levin. 

"  Just  as  you  please." 

At  this  moment  they  were  not  fifteen  steps  apart. 

"  Stiva,"  cried  Levin  suddenly,  "  you  have  not  told  me 
whether  your  sister-iu-law  is  married  yet,  or  whether  she 
is  to  be  married  soon."  He  felt  so  calm,  his  mind  was  so 
thoroughly  made  up,  that  nothing,  he  thought,  could  move 
him.  But  he  did  not  expect  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  answer. 

"  She  is  not  married,  and  she  is  not  thinking  of  marriage. 
She  is  veiy  ill,  and  the  doctors  have  sent  her  abroad.  They 
even  fear  for  her  life." 

"  What  did  you  say?  "  cried  Levin.  "  111?  What  is  the 
matter?  How  did  she  "  — 

AVhile  they  were  talking  thus,  Laska,  with  ears  erect,  was 
gazing  at  the  sky  above  her  head,  and  looking  at  them 
reproachfully. 

"It  is  not  the  time  to  talk,"  thought  Laska.  "Ah! 
Here  comes  one —  there  he  goes :  they  will  miss  him." 

At  the  same  instant  a  sharp  whistle  pierced  the  ears  of  the 
two  huntsmen,  and  both,  levelling  their  guns,  shot  at  once : 
the  two  reports,  the  two  flashes,  were  simultaneous.  The 
snipe  flapped  his  wings,  drew  up  his  delicate  legs,  and  fell 
into  the  thicket. 

"Excellent!  both  together!"  cried  Levin,  running  with 
Laska  in  search  of  the  game.  "  Ach !  Da !  What  was  it  that 
hurt  me  so  just  now?  Ah,  yes!  Kitty  is  ill,"  he  remem- 
bered. "What  is  to  be  done  about  it?  It  is  very  sad. 
Ah!  I  have  found  it.  Good  dog,"  said  he,  taking  the  bird 
from  Laska's  mouth,  to  put  it  into  his  overflowing  game-bag. 


XVI. 

WHEN  he  reached  home,  Levin  questioned  his  friend  about 
Kitty's  illness  and  the  plans  of  the  Shcherbatskys.  It  was 
not  without  pleasure,  though  it  was  with  some  conscientious 
scruples,  that  he  heard  how  she  who  had  caused  him  so  much 


ANNA   EAEENINA.  177 

suffering,  was  suffering  herself.  But  wheu  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  spoke  of  the  reason  of  Kitty's  illness,  and  pronounced 
the  name  of  Vronsky,  he  interrupted  him. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  know  these  family  matters,  since  I  am 
not  concerned." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  smiled  imperceptibly  as  he  noticed 
the  sudden  change  in  Levin,  who,  in  an  instant,  had  passed 
from  gayety  to  sadness. 

"  Have  you  succeeded  in  your  transaction  with  Rabinin 
about  the  wood?  "  he  asked. 

kt  Yes  :  J  have  made  the  bargain.  He  gives  me  an  excel- 
lent price,  —  thirty-eight  thousand  rubles,  eight  in  advance, 
and  the  rest  in  six  years.  I  had  been  long  about  it :  no  one 
offered  me  any  more." 

"•You  are  selling  your  wood  for  a  song,"  said  Levin, 
frowning. 

"Why  so?"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  with  a  good-hu- 
mored smile,  having  known  that  Levin  would  totally  disap- 
prove of  it. 

"  Because  your  wood  is  worth  at  least  five  hundred  rubles 
a  desyatin." 

"  Ach!  You  rural  economists!  "  replied  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch. "  What  a  tone  of  scorn  to  us,  your  urban  brother ! 
And  yet,  when  it  comes  to  business  matters,  we  come  out  of 
it  better  than  you  do.  Believe  me,  I  have  made  a  careful 
calculation.  The  wood  is  sold  under  very  favorable  condi- 
tions ;  and  I  fear  only  one  thing,  and  that  is  lest  the  mer- 
chant will  regret  it.  It  is  wretched  wood,"  he  went  on, 
accenting  the  word  wretched,  so  as  to  convince  Levin  of  the 
unfairness  of  his  criticism,  "  and  nothing  but  fire-wood. 
There  will  not  be  more  than  thirty  sazhens  [forty-nine  square 
feet]  to  the  desyatin,  and  he  pays  me  at  the  rate  of  two  hun- 
dred rubles." 

Levin  smiled  scornfully. 

"I  know  these  city  people,"  he  thought,  "who,  for  the 
once  in  ten  years  that  they  come  into  the  country,  and  the 
two  or  three  words  of  the  country  dialect,  plume  themselves 
on  knowing  the  subject  thoroughly.  *•  Wretched!  only  thirty 
sazhens !  '  he  speaks  without  knowing  a  word  of  what  he  is 
talking  about." 

4 'I  do  not  allow  myself  to  criticise  what  you  put  on  paper 
in  your  administrative  functions,"  he  said,  "  and,  if  I  needed, 
I  would  even  ask  your  advice.  But  you,  — you  imagine  that 


178  ANNA   KAIifiNINA. 

you  ^mlei'btand  this  document  about  the  wood.  It  is  bad. 
Have  you  counted  tue  trees?  " 

"  What?  Count  my  trees?"  asked  Stepan  Arkady evitch, 
with  a  laugh,  aud  stiil  trying  to  get  his  friend  out  of  his  ill- 
humor.  "Count  the  sand  on  the  seashore,  count  the  rays 
of  the  planets  —  ti.-ough  a  lofty  genius  might  " — 

"  Nn  !  da  !  J  tell  you  the  lofty  genius  of  Rabinin  succeeded. 
Never  does  a  merchant  purchase  without  counting,  —  unless, 
indeed,  the  wood  is  given  away  for  nothing,  as  you  have  done. 
I  know  your  wood  ;  I  go  hunting  there  every  year ;  it  is  worth 
five  hundred  rubles  a  desyatin,  cash  down  ;  while  he  gives 
you  only  two  hundred,  and  on  a  long  terra.  That  means  you 
give  him  thirty  thousand. " 

"  Nu!  enough  of  imaginary  receipts,"  said  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch  plaintively.  ^-Why  didn't  some  one  offer  me  this 
price?  " 

"  Because  the  merchants  connive  with  each  other.  I  have 
had  to  do  with  all  of  them  :  I  know  them.  They  are  not  mer- 
chants, but  speculators.  None  of  them  is  satisfied  with  a 
profit  less  than  ten  or  fifteen  per  cent.  They  wait  till  they 
can  buy  for  twenty  kopeks  what  is  worth  a  ruble." 

"  Nu!  enough  :  you  are  blue." 

"Not  at  all,"  saict  Levin  sadly,  just  as  they  were  ap- 
proaching the  house. 

A  strong  telyega,  drawn  by  a  well-fed  horse,  was  standing 
before  the  door;  in  the  teJyega  sat  Rabinin's  t&t prikashchik, 
holding  the  reins ;  and  Rabinin  himself  was  already  in  the 
house,  and  met  the  two  friends  at  the  vestibule-door.  The 
merchant  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  tall  and  thin,  wearing  a 
mustache,  but  his  prominent  chin  was  well  shaven.  His  eyes 
were  protuberant  and  muddy.  He  was  clad  in  a  dark  blue 
coat  with  buttons,  set  low  behind  ;  and  he  wore  high  boots, 
and  over  his  boots  huge  goloshes.  Wiping  his  face  with  his 
handkerchief,  and  wrapping  his  overcoat  closely  around  him, 
though  it  was  not  necessary,  he  came  out  with  a  smile,  to 
meet  the  gentlemen  as  they  entered.  He  gave  one  hand  to 
Stepan  Arkady  evitch,  as  though  he  wanted  to  grasp  some- 
thing. 

"Ah!  Here  }-ou  are,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  shak- 
ing hands.  "  Veiy  good." 

"  I  should  not  have  ventured  to  disobey  your  excellency's 
orders,  though  the  roads  are  very  bad.  Fact,  I  came  all  the 
way  oil  foot,  but  I  am  here  on  time.  A  greeting  to  you, 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  179 

Konstantin  Dmitritch,"  said  he,  turning  to  Levin,  intending 
to  seize  his  hand  also ;  but  Levin  affected  not  to  notice  the 
motion,  and  calmly  relieved  his  game-bag  of  the  snipe. 

•'You  have  been  enjoying  a  hunt?  What  kind  of  a  bird 
is  that?"  asked  Rabinin,  looking  at  the  snipe  disdainfully. 
"  What  does  it  taste  like?"  And  he  tossed  his  head  disap- 
provingly, as  though  he  felt  doubtful  if  such  a  fowl  were 
edible. 

"  Won't  you  go  into  the  library?  "  asked  Levin  in  French. 
"  Go  into  the  library,  and  discuss  your  business  there." 

"Just  as  you  please,"  replied  the  merchant,  in  a  tone  of 
disdainful  superiority,  wishing  it  to  be  understood,  that,  if 
others  could  liud  difficulties  in  transacting  business,  he  was 
not  of  the  number. 

In  the  library,  Rabinin's  eyes  mechanically  sought  the 
holy  image  ;  but,  when  he  caught  sight  of  it,  he  did  not  make 
the  sign  of  the  cross.  He  glanced  at  the  bookcases  and  the 
shelves  lined  with  books,  and  manifested"  the  same  air  of 
doubt  and  disdain  that  the  snipe  had  caused. 

"  Well,  did  you  bring  the  money?  "  asked  Stepau  Arkad- 
yevitch. 

"  The  money  will  come  all  in  good  time,  but  I  came  to 
have  a  talk." 

"  What  have  we  to  talk  about?     However,  sit  down." 

"  May  as  well  sit  down,"  said  Rabiuin,  taking  a  chair,  and 
leaning  back  in  it  in  the  most  uncomfortable  attitude.  "  You 
must  give  in  a  trifle,  prince  :  it  would  be  sinful  not  to  do  it. 
As  to  the  money,  it  is  all  ready,  even  to  the  last  kopek  :  on 
this  side,  there  will  be  no  delay." 

Levin,  who  had  been  putting  his  gun  away  in  the  armory, 
and  was  just  leaving  the  room,  stopped  as  he  heard  the  last 
words. 

"You  bought  the  wood  at  a  miserable  price,"  said  he. 
"He  came  to  visit  me  too  late:  I  would  have  engaged  to 
get  much  more  for  it." 

Rabinin  arose  and  contemplated  Levin  from  head  to  foot 
with  a  smile,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Konstantin  Levin  is  very  sharp,"  said  he  at  length, 
turning  to  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  One  never  succeeds  in 
arranging  a  bargain  finally  with  him.  I  have  bought  wheat, 
and  paid  good  prices." 

"Why  should  I  make  you  a  present  of  my  property?  I 
did  not  find  it  nor  steal  it." 


180  ANNA  K 

"  Excuse  mci  at  the  present  day  it  is  absolutely  impos- 
sible to  be  a  thief:  every  thing  is  done,  in  the  present  day, 
honestly  and  openly.  Who  could  steal,  then?  We  have 
spoken  honestly  and  honorably.  The  wood  is  too  dear  :  I 
shall  not  make  the  two  cuds  meet.  I  beg  you  to  yield  a 
little." 

"  But  is  your  bargain  made,  or  is  it  not?  If  it  is  made, 
there  is  no  need  of  haggling :  if  it  is  not,  I  am  going  to 
buy  the  wood." 

The  smile  disappeared  from  Rabinin's  lips.  A  rapacious 
and  cruel  expression,  like  that  of  a  bird  of  prey,  came  in  its 
place.  With  his  bony  hands  he  tore  open  his  overcoat, 
bringing  into  sight  his  shirt,  his  vest  with  its  copper  buttons, 
and  his  watch-chain  ;  and  from  his  breast-pocket  he  pulled 
out  a  huge  well-worn  wallet. 

"Excuse  me:  the  wood  is  mine."  And  making  a  rapid 
sign  of  the  cross,  he  extended  his  hand.  "Take  my 
money,  I  take  your  wood.  This  is  how  Rabinin  ends  his 
transactions  finally  and  positively.  He  does  not  reckon  his 
kopeks,"  said  he,  waving  his  wallet  eagerly. 

"  If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would  not  be  in  haste,"  said 
Levin. 

"  But  I  have  given  my  word,"  said  Oblonsky,  astonished. 

Levin  dashed  out  of  the  room,  slamming  the  door.  The 
merchant  watched  him  as  he  went,  and  lifted  his  head. 

"  Merely  the  effect  of  youth  ;  definitely,  pure  childishness. 
Believe  me,  I  buy  this,  so  to  speak,  for  the  sake  of  glory,  be- 
cause I  wish  people  to  say,  '  It's  Rabinin,  and  not  some  one 
else,  who  has  bought  Oblonsky's  forest.'  And  God  knows 
how  I  shall  come  out  of  it !  Please  sign  "  — 

An  hour  later  the  merchant  went  home  in  his  telyega,  well 
wrapped  up  in  his  furs,  with  the  agreement  in  his  pocket. 

"  Och!  these  gentlemen!"  he  said  to  his  prikashchik : 
"  always  the  same  story." 

"So  it  is,"  replied  the  prikashchik,  giving  up  the  reins, 
so  as  to  arrange  the  leather  boot.  "^1-s/  and  your  little  pur- 
chase, Mikhail  Ignatitch?" 

"  Nu!  nu!" 

XVII. 

STEPAN  ARKADYEVITCH  went  down-stairs,  his  pockets  filled 
with  "  promises  to  pay."  due  in  three  months,  which  the 
merchant  had  given  him.  The  sale  was  concluded ;  he  had 


ANNA   KAREN  IN  A.  181 

money  in  his  pocket ;  sport  had  been  good  ;  hence  he  was 
perfectly  happy  and  contented,  and  would  gladly  have  dis- 
pelled the  sadness  which  possessed  him  :  a  day  beginning  so 
well  should  end  the  same. 

But  Levin,  however  desirous  he  was  of  seeming  amiable 
and  thoughtful  toward  his  guest,  could  not  drive  away  his 
ill-humor :  the  species  of  intoxication  which  he  felt  in  learn- 
ing that  Kitty  was  not  married,  was  of  short  duration.  Not 
married,  and  ill!  Ill,  perhaps,  from  love  of  him  who  had 
jilted  her.  It  was  almost  like  a  personal  insult.  Had  not 
Vronsky,  in  a  certain  sense,  gained  the  right  to  despise  him, 
since  he  had  put  to  shame  her  who  had  rejected  him?  He 
was  therefore  his  enemy.  He  could  not  reason  away  this 
impression,  but  he  felt  wounded,  hurt,  and  discontented  at 
every  thing,  and  especially  at  this  ridiculous  sale  of  the  forest, 
which  had  taken  place  under  his  roof,  without  his  being  able 
to  keep  Oblonsky  from  being  cheated. 

"  Nil!  is  it  finished?  "  he  asked,  as  he  met  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch.  "  Will  you  have  some  supper?  " 

"Yes:  I  won't  refuse.  What  an  appetite  I  feel  in  the 
country !  It's  wonderful !  why  didn't  you  offer  a  bite  to 
Kabinin?" 

"Ah!  the  Devil  take  him!  " 

"  Do  you  know,  your  behavior  to  him  seemed  astonishing 
to  me?  You  didn't  even  offer  him  }'our  hand  !  Why  didn't 
you  offer  him  your  hand?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  shake  hands  with  my  lackey,  and  my 
lackey  is  worth  a  hundred  of  him." 

"  What  a  rvtroyrad  you  are!  And  how  about  the  fusion 
of  classes?  " 

"  Let  those  who  like  it  enjoy  it !     It  is  disgusting." 

"  You,  I  see,  are  a  retrograd." 

"To  tell  the  truth,  I  never  asked  myself  who  I  was.  I 
am  Koustantin,  —  nothing  more." 

'•  And  Konstantin  Levin  in  a  very  bad  humor,"  said 
Oblonsky,  smiling. 

"  Da !  I  am  in  bad  humor,  and  do  you  know  why?  Because 
of  this  idiotic  bargain  ;  excuse  the  express  "  — 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  put  on  an  air  of  injured  innocence, 
and  replied  with  an  amusing  grimace. 

"Nu!  that'll  do!"  he  said.  "After  any  one  has  sold 
any  thing,  they  come  saying,  '  You  might  have  sold  this  at  a 
higher  price  ; '  but  no  one  thinks  of  offering  this  fine  price 


182  ANNA 

before  the  sale.  No :  I  see  you  have  a  grudge  against  this 
unfortunate  Rabinin." 

"  Maybe  I  have.  And  shall  I  tell  you  why?  You  will  call 
me  retrograd  or  some  worse  name,  but  I  cannot  help  feeling 
bad  to  see  the  nobility  [dvorianstvo']  — the  nobility,  to  which 
I  am  happy  to  say  I  belong,  and  belong  in  spite  of  your  fu- 
sion of  classes,  always  getting  poorer  and  poorer.  If  this 
growing  poverty  was  caused  by  spendthrift  ways,  by  too  high 
living,  I  wouldn't  say  any  thing.  To  live  like  lords  is  proper 
for  the  nobles  :  the  nobles  [dvoriane']  only  can  do  this.  Now 
the  muzhiks  are  buying  up  our  lands,  but  I  am  not  concerned  : 
the  proprietor  [barin~\  does  nothing,  the  muzhik  is  industri- 
ous, and  it  is  just  that  the  workingman  should  take  the  place 
of  the  lazy.  So  it  ought  to  be.  And  I  am  glad  for  the 
muzhik.  But  what  vexes  me,  and  stirs  my  soul,  is  to  see 
the  proprietor  robbed  by —  I  don't  know  how  to  express  it — 
by  his  own  innocence.  Here  is  a  Polish  tenant,  who  has 
bought,  at  half  price,  a  superb  estate  of  a  baruina  [titled  lady] 
who  lives  at -Nice.  Yonder  is  a  merchant  who  has  got  a 
farm  for  a  tenth  of  its  value.  And  this  very  day  you  have 
given  this  rascal  a  present  of  thirty  thousand  rubles." 

tk  But  what  could  I  do?     Count  my  trees  one  by  one?" 

"Certainly:  if  you  have  not  counted  them,  be  sure  that 
the  merchant  has  counted  them  for  you  ;  and  his  children 
will  have  the  means  whereb}'  to  live  and  get  an  education, 
whereas  yours  perhaps  will  not." 

"Nu!  In  my  opinion,  it  is  ridiculous  to  go  into  such 
minute  calculations.  We  have  our  ways  of  doing  things, 
and  they  have  theirs  ;  and  let  them  get  the  good  of  it.  Nu  ! 
Moreover,  it  is  done,  and  that's  the  last  of  it.  —  And  here 
is  my  favorite  omelette  coning  in  ;  and  then  Agafya  Mik- 
hailovna  will  certainly  give  us  a  glass  of  her  delicious  travni- 
chok"  [herb  brandy]. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  sat  down  at  the  table  in  excellent 
spirits,  and  rallied  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  and  assured  her 
that  he  had  not  eaten  such  a  dinner  and  such  a  supper  for 
an  age. 

"  You  can  give  fine  speeches,  at  least.  But  Konstnntin 
Dmitritch,  if  he  found  only  a  crust  of  bread,  would  eat  it 
and  go  away." 

Levin,  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  rule  his  melancholy  and 
gloomy  mood,  still  felt  out  of  sorts.  There  was  a  question 
which  he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  put,  finding  neither 


ANNA   KAE&NINA.  183 

the  opportunity  to  ask  it,  nor  a  suitable  form  in  which  to 
couch  it.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  gone  to  his  room,  and, 
after  a  bath,  had  gone  to  bed  clad  in  a  beautiful  frilled 
nightgown.  Levin  still  dallied  in  the  room,  talking  about  a 
hundred  trifles,  but  not  having  the  courage  to  ask  what  he 
had  at  heart. 

"  How  well  this  is  arranged  !  "  said  he,  taking  from  its 
wrapper  a  piece  of  perfumed  soap,  —  an  attention  on  the 
part  of  Agafya  Mikhailovua  which  had  not  attracted  Ob- 
louskv's  attention.  "  Just  look :  isn't  it  truly  a  work  of 

art?" 

"  Yes  :  every  thing  is  getting  perfect  nowadays,"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  with  a  beatific  yawn.  "  The  theatres, 
for  example,  and  —  a — a  —  a" — yawning  again  —  "these 
amusing  —  a  —  a  —  a  —  electric  lights  —  a  —  a  "  — 

"Yes,  the  electric  lights,"  repeated  Levin.  "And  that 
Vronsky :  where  is  he  now  ?  "  he  suddenly  asked,  putting 
down  the  soap. 

"  Vronsky?  "  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  ceasing  to  yawn. 
"  He  is  at  Petersburg.  He  went  away  shortly  after  you  did, 
and  did  not  return  to  Moscow.  Do  you  know,  Kostia,"  he 
continued,  leaning  his  elbow  on  a  little  table  placed  near  the 
head  of  the  bed,  and  leaning  his  head  on  his  hand,  while  two 
good-natured  and  rather  sleepy  eyes  looked  out  like  twin 
stars,  "I  will  tell  you  the  truth.  You  are  in  part  to  blame 
for  all-this  story  :  you  were  afraid  of  a  rival.  And  I  will  re- 
mind you  of  what  I  said  :  I  don't  know  which  of  you  had  the 
best  chances.  Why  didn't  you  go  ahead?  I  told  you  then 
that  "  —  and  he  yawned  again,  trying  not  to  open  his  mouth. 

"Does  he,  or  doesn't  he,  know  of  the  step  I  took?" 
thought  Levin,  looking  at  him.  "Da!  there  is  something 
subtle,  something  diplomatic,  in  his  face ;"  and,  feeling  that 
he  was  blushing,  he  said  nothing,  but  looked  at  Oblonsky. 

"  If  on  her  part  there  was  any  feeling  for  him,  it  was 
merely  a  slight  drawing,  a  fascination,  such  as  a  lofty  aris- 
tocracy and  a  high  position  is  likely  to  have  on  a  young  girl, 
and  particularly  on  her  mother." 

Levin  frowned.  The  pain  of  his  rejection  came  back  to 
him  like  a  recent  wound  in  his  heart.  Fortunately,  he  was 
at  home  ;  and  at  home  the  shadows  sustain  one. 

"  Wait !  wait :  "  he  interrupted  :  "  your  aristocracy  !  But 
I  want  to  tell  you  what  this  aristocracy  of  Vronsky's  means, 
or  any  other  kind  that  could  look  down  upon  me.  You  con- 


184  ANNA   KABfiNINA. 

sider  him  an  aristocrat.  I  don't.  A  man  whose  father 
sprang  from  the  dust,  by  means  of  intrigue,  whose  mother 
has  —  Oh,  no  !  Aristocrats,  in  my  eyes,  are  men  who  can 
show  in  the  past  three  or  four  generations  of  excellent  fam- 
ilies, belonging  to  tlie  most  cultivated  classes, —  talents  and 
intellect  are  another  matter,  —  who  never  abased  themselves 
before  anybody,  and  were  self-reliant,  —  like  my  father  and 
mother.  And  I  know  many  families  of  the  same  kind.  It 
seems  incredible  to  you  that  I  can  count  my  trees  ;  but  you, 
you  give  thirty  thousand  rubles  to  Rabinin  :  but  you  receive 
a  salary,  and  other  things  ;  and  that  I  never  expect  to  receive, 
and  therefore  I  appreciate  what  my  father  left  me,  and  what 
my  labor  gives  me  ;  and  therefore  I  say  it  is  we  who  are 
aristocrats,  and  not  those  who  live  at  the  expense  of  the 
powers  of  this  world,  and  who  can  be  bought  for  twenty 
kopeks." 

"  Da!  whom  are  you  so  angry  with?  I  agree  with  you," 
replied  Oblonsky  gayly,  and  amused  at  his  friend's  tirade, 
even  though  he  knew  that  it  was  directed  against  himself. 
"  You  are  not  fair  to  Vrousky,  but  this  has  nothing  to  do  with 
him.  I  will  tell  }'ou  frankly  :  if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  would 
start  for  Moscow,  and  "  — 

tw  No  !  I  don't  know  if  you  are  aware  of  what  passed, — 
but  it's  over  for  me.  I  will  tell  you.  I  proposed  to  Kate- 
rina  Aleksandrovna,  and  was  rejected  ;  so  that  now  the  mem- 
ory of  it  is  painful  and  humiliating." 

"  Why  so?     What  nonsense  !  " 

"  But  let  us  not  speak  of  it.  Forgive  me  if  I  have  been 
rude  to  you,"  said  Levin.  "  Now  all  is  explained.  You 
will  not  be. angry  with  me,  Stiva?"  said  he,  resuming  his 
usual  manner.  "•  I  beg  of  you,  don't  lay  up  any  thing  against 
me."  And  he  took  his  hand. 

"  Da  I  I  will  not  think  any  thing  more  about  it.  I  am  very 
glad,  though,  that  we  have  spoken  frankly  to  one  another. 
And,  do  you  know,  sport  will  be  capital  to-morrow?  Sup- 
pose we  try  it  again.  I  would  not  even  sleep,  but  go  straight 
to  the  station." 

"Excellent!" 

XVIII. 

VRONSKY,  though  absorbed  by  his  passion,  changed  in  no 
way  the  outward  course  of  his  life.  He  kept  up  all  his  social 
and  military  relations.  His  regiment  filled  an  important  part 


ANNA  EARtiNINA.  185 

in  his  life,  in  the  first  place  because  he  loved  it,  and,  still 
more,  because  he  was  extremely  popular.  He  was  not  only 
admired,  he  was  respected  ;  and  it  was  a  matter  to  be  proud 
of,  that  a  man  of  his  rank  and  intellectual  capacity  was  seen 
to  place  the  interests  of  his  regiment  and  his  comrades 
above  the  vainglorious  or  egotistical  success  which  were  his 
right.  Vronsky  kept  account  of  the  feeling  which  he  in- 
spired, and  felt  called  upon,  in  a  certain  degree,  to  sustain 
his  character. 

Of  course  he  spoke  to  no  one  of  his  passion.  Never  did 
an  imprudent  word  escape  him,  even  when  he  joined  his  com- 
rades in  some  drinking-bout, — he  drank,  however,  very 
moderately,  —  and  he  was  wise  enough  to  keep  his  mouth 
shut  in  the  presence  of  those  gossiping  meddlers  who  made 
the  least  allusion  to  the  affairs  of  his  heart.  His  passion, 
however,  was  a  matter  of  notoriety  throughout  the  city ;  and 
the  young  men  envied  him  on  account  of  the  very  thing  that 
was  the  greatest  drawback  to  his  love,  —  Karenin's  high  sta- 
tion, which  made  the  matter  more  conspicuous. 

The  majority  of  young  ladies,  jealous  of  Anna,  whom  they 
were  weary  of  hearing  always  called  the  just,  were  not  sorry 
to  have  their  predictions  verified,  and  were  waiting  only  for 
the  sanction  of  public  opinion,  to  overwhelm  her  with  their 
scorn  :  they  had  stored  away,  ready  for  use,  the  mud  which 
should  be  thrown  at  her  when  the  time  came.  People  of  ex- 
perience, and  those  of  high  rank,  were  displeased  at  the 
prospect  of  a  disgraceful  scandal  in  society. 

Vronsky's  mother  at  first  felt  a  sort  of  pleasure  at  her 
son's  infatuation ;  in  her  opinion,  nothing  was  better  for 
forming  a  young  man  than  to  fall  in  love  with  some  great 
society  lady ;  and,  moreover,  she  was  not  sorry  to  find  that 
this  Madame  Kareniua,  who  seemed  so  entirely  devoted  to 
her  boy,  was,  after  all,  only  like  any  other  handsome  and 
elegant  woman.  But  this  way  of  looking  at  it  changed  when 
she  learned  that  her  son  had  refused  an  important  promotion, 
so  that  he  might  not  be  obliged  to  leave  his  regiment,  and 
this  Madame  Kare"nin's  vicinity.  Moreover,  instead  of  being 
a  brilliant  and  fashionable  flirtation,  such  as  she  approved, 
it  was  turning  out,  as  she  learned,  to  be  a  tragedy,  after  the 
style  of  Werther,  and  she  was  afraid  lest  her  son  should 
allow  himself  to  commit  some  folly.  Since  his  unheralded 
departure  from  Moscow  she  had  not  seen  him,  but  she  sent 
word  to  him,  through  his  brother,  that  she  desired  him  to 


186  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

come  to  her.  His  older  brother  was  even  more  dissatisfied, 
not  because  he  felt  anxious  to  know  whether  this  love-affair 
was  to  be  deep  or  ephemeral,  calm  or  passionate,  innocent 
or  guilty,  —  he  himself,  though  a  married  man  and  the 
father  of  a  family,  had  shown  by  his  own  conduct  that  he 
had  no  right  to  be  severe,  —  but  because  he  knew  that  this 
love-affair  was  displeasing  in  quarters  where  it  was  better  to 
be  on  good  terms  ;  and  therefore  he  blamed  his  brother. 

Vronsky,  besides  his  society  relations  and  his  military 
duties,  hud  yet  another  absorbing  passion,  —  horses.  The 
officers'  races  were  to  take  place  this  summer.  He  became  a 
subscriber,  and  purchased  a  pure-blood  English  trotter :  in 
spite  of  his  love-affair,  he  was  extremely  interested  in  *the 
results  of  the  races.  These  two  passions  easily  existed  side 
by  side,  and  he  needed  some  outside  interest  to  offset  the 
violent  emotions  which  stirred  him  in  his  relations  with 
Anna. 

XIX. 

ON  the  day  of  the  Krasno-Selo  races,  Vronsky  came  earlier 
than  usual  to  eat  a  beefsteak  in  the  officers'  great  common 
dining-hall.  He  was  not  at  all  constrained  to  limit  himself, 
since  his  weight  satisfied  the  forty  pud  conditions  of  the 
service  ;  but  he  did  not  want  to  get  fat,  and  so  he  refrained 
from  sugar  and  farinaceous  foods.  He  sat  down  at  the 
table.  His  coat  was  unbuttoned,  and  displayed  his  white 
vest,  and  he  opened  a  French  novel :  with  both  elbows  rest- 
ing on  the  table  he  seemed  absorbed  in  his  book,  but  he 
took  this  attitude  so  as  not  to  talk  with  the  officers  as  they 
went  and  came,  but  to  think. 

He  was  thinking  about  the  meeting  with  Anna,  which  was 
to  take  place  after  the  races.  He  had  not  seen  her  for  three 
days ;  and  he  was  wondering  if  she  would  be  able  to  keep 
her  promise,  as  her  husband  had  just  returned  to  Petersburg 
from  a  journey  abroad,  and  he  was  wondering  how  he  could 
find  out.  They  had  met  for  the  last  time  at  his  cousin 
Betsy's  villa.  For  he  went  to  the  Karenins'  house  as  little 
as  possible,  and  now  he  was  asking  himself  if  he  would  best 
go  there. 

"  I  will  simply  say  that  I  am  charged  "by  Betsy  to  find 
whether  she  expects  to  attend  the  races,  —  yes,  certainly, 
I  will  go,"  he  said,  raising  his  head  from  his  book.  And  his 


ANNA  KARfiNlNA.  187 

face  shone  with  the  joy  caused  by  his  imagination  of  the 
forthcoming  interview. 

"  Send  word  that  I  wish  my  troika  harnessed,"  said  he  to 
the  waiter  who  was  bringing  his  beefsteak  on  a  silver  platter. 
He  took  his  plate,  and  began  his  meal. 

In  the  adjoining  billiard-room  the  clicking  of  balls  was 
heard,  and  two  voices  talking  and  laughing.  Then  two 
officers  appeared  in  the  door :  one  of  them  was  a  young  man 
with  delicate,  refined  features,  who  had  just  graduated  from 
the  Corps  of  Pages,  and  joined  the  regiment ;  the  other  was 
old  and  fat,  with  little,  moist  ej'es,  and  wore  a  bracelet  on 
his  wrist. 

Vronsky  glanced  at  them  and  frowned,  and  went  on  eating 
and  reading  at  the  same  time,  as  though  he  had  not  seen 
them. 

"  Getting  ready  for  work,  are  you?  "  asked  the  fat  officer, 
sitting  down  near  him. 

"  You  see  I  am,"  replied  Vronsky,  wiping  his  lips,  and 
frowning  again,  without  looking  up. 

"But  aren't  you  afraid  of  getting  fat?"  continued  the 
elderly  officer,  pulling  up  a  chair  for  his  junior. 

"What!"  cried  Vrousky,  showing  his  teeth  to  express 
his  disgust  and  aversion. 

"  Aren't  you  afraid  of  getting  fat?  " 

"Waiter,  sherry!"  cried  Vronsky,  without  deigning  to 
reply ;  and  he  changed  his  book  to  the  other  side  of  his 
plate,  and  continued  to  read. 

The  fat  officer  took  the  wine-list,  and  passed  it  over  to  the 
young  officer. 

"  See  what  we'll  have  to  drink." 

"Rhine  wine,  if  you  please,"  replied  the  latter,  trying  to 
twist  his  imaginary  mustache,  and  looking  timidly  at  Vrousky 
out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

When  he  saw  that  Vronsky  did  not  move,  the  young  officer 
got  up,  and  said,  "  Come  into  the  billiard-room." 

The  fat  officer  also  arose,  and  the  two  went  out  of  the 
door.  At  the  same  time  a  cavalry  captain  came  in,  a  tall, 
handsome  young  man,  named  Yashvin.  He  gave  the  two 
officers  a  slight,  disdainful  salute,  and  went  towards  Vronsky. 

"Ah!  here  he  is,"  he  cried,  Ia3'ing  his  heavy  hand  on 
Vronsk3''s  shoulder.  Vronsky  turned  round  angrily,  but  in 
an  instant  a  pleasant,  friendly  expression  came  into  his  face. 

"Well,    Alosha!"    said   the   cavalry  captain,   in  his  big 


188  ANNA   KAitl&NlNA. 

baritone.  "  Have  some  more  dinner,  and  drink  a  glass  with 
me." 

"  No:  I  don't  want  any  dinner." 

"Those  are  inseparables,"  said  Yashvin,  looking  with  an 
expression  of  disdain  at  the  two  officers  as  they  disap- 
peared. Then  he  sat  down,  doubling  up  under  the  chair, 
which  was  too  short  for  him,  his  long  legs  dressed  in  tight, 
uniform  trousers.  "  Why  weren't  you  at  the  theatre  last 
evening?  Numerova  was  truly  not  bad  at  all.  Where  were 
you?" 

"  I  staid  too  late  at  the  Tverskois',"  said  Vronsky. 

"Ah!" 

Yashvin  was  Vronsky's  best  friend  in  the  regiment,  though 
he  was  not  only  a  gambler,  but  a  debauchee.  It  could  not  be 
said  of  him  that  he  entirely  lacked  principles.  He  had  prin- 
ciples, but  the}'  were  immoral  ones.  Vronsky  liked  him,  and 
admired  his  exceptional  physical  vigor,  which  allowed  him  to 
drink  like  a  hogshead  and  not  feel  it,  and  to  do  absolutely 
without  sleep  if  it  were  necessary.  He  had  no  less  admira- 
tion for  his  great  social  ability,  which  made  him  a  power,  not 
only  with  his  superiors,  but  with  his  comrades.  At  the  Eng- 
lish Club,  he  had  the  notoriety  of  being  the  most  daring  of 
gamblers,  because,  while  never  ceasing  to  drink,  he  risked 
large  sums  with  imperturbable  presence  of  mind. 

If  Vronsky  felt  friendship  and  some  consideration  for 
Yashvin,  it  was  because  he  knew  that  his  fortune  or  his  social 
position  counted  for  nothing  in  his  friendship  that  the  latter 
showed  him.  He  was  liked  on  his  own  account.  Moreover, 
Yashvin  was  the  only  man  to  whom  Vronsk}'  would  have 
been  willing  to  speak  of  his  love  ;  because  he  felt,  that,  in 
spite  of  his  affected  scorn  for  all  kinds  of  sentiment,  he  alone 
could  appreciate  the  serious  passion  which  now  absorbed  his 
whole  life.  Besides,  he  knew  that  he  was  incapable  of  in- 
dulging in  tittle-tattle  and  scandal.  Thus,  taken  all  in  all, 
his  presence  was  always  agreeable  to  him. 

Vronsky  had  not  yet  spoken  about  his  love,  but  he  knew 
that  Yashvin  knew  it —  looked  upon  it  in  its  true  light ;  and 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  read  this  in  his  eyes. 

"Ah,  da!"  said  the  cavalry  captain,  when  he  heard  the 
name  of  the  Tverskois  ;  and  he  bit  his  mustache,  and  looked 
at  him  with  his  brilliant  black  eyes. 

"Nut  and  what  did  you  do  last  evening?  Did  you  gain?" 
asked  Vronsky. 


ANNA   K  Alt  £  NINA.  189 

"Eight  thousand  rubles,  but  three  thousand  possibly  are 
no  good." 

"Nu!  Then  you  can  lose  on  me,"  said  Vronsky,  laugh- 
ing :  his  comrade  had  laid  a  large  wager  on  him. 

"But  I  shall  not  lose.  Makhotiu  is  the  only  one  to  be 
afraid  of." 

And  the  conversation  went  off  in  regard  to  the  races,  which 
was  the  only  subject  which  was  of  any  moment  now. 

"Come  on:  J  am  through,"  said  Vronsky,  getting  up. 
Yashvin  also  arose,  and  stretched  his  long  legs. 

"  I  can't  dine  so  early,  but  I  will  take  something  to  drink. 
I  will  follow  you.  Here,  twne!"  he  cried,  in  his  heavy 
voice,  which  made  the  windows  rattle,  and  was  the  wonder 
of  the  regiment.  "No,  no  matter!"  he  cried  again:  "if 
you  are  going  home,  I'll  join  you." 


XX. 

VRONSKY  was  lodging  in  a  great  Finnish  izba  [hut] ,  very 
neatly  arranged,  and  divided  in  two  by  a  partition.  Petritsky 
was  his  chum,  not  only  in  Petersburg,  but  here  also  in  camp. 
He  was  asleep  when  Vronsky  and  Yashvin  entered. 

"  Get  up  !  you've  slept  long  enough,"  said  Yashvin,  going 
behind  the  partition,  and  shaking  the  sleeper's  shoulder,  as 
he  lay  with  his  nose  buried  in  the  pillow. 

Petritsk}-  got  upon  his  knees,  and  looked  all  about  him. 

"Your  brother  has  been  here,"  said  he  to  Vronsky.  "He 
woke  me  up,  confound  him  !  and  he  said  that  he  would  come 
again." 

Then  he  threw  himself  back  on  the  pillow  again,  and 
pulled  up  the  bedclothes. 

"  Let  up,  Yashvin,"  he  cried  angrily,  as  his  comrade 
amused  himself  by  twitching  off  his  quilt.  Then  turning 
towards  him,  and  opening  his  eyes,  he  said,  "  You  would  do 
much  better  to  tell  me  what  I  ought  to  drink  to  take  this  bad 
taste  out  of  my  mouth." 

' '  Vodka  is  better  than  any  thing, ' '  said  Yashvin.  ' '  Teresh- 
chenko !  Bring  the  barin  some  vodka  and  cucumbers,"  he 
ordered  of  the  servant,  seeming  to  delight  in  the  thunder  of 
his  voice. 

"  You  advise  vodka?  ha!"  demanded  Petritsky,  rubbing 
his  eyes,  with  a  grimace.  "Will  you  take  some  too?  If 


190  ANNA 

you'll  join,  all  right!  Vronsky,  will  you  have  a  drink?" 
And  leaving  his  bed,  he  came  out  wrapped  up  in  a  striped 
quilt,  waving  his  arms  in  the  air,  and  singing  in  French, 
"  '  There  was  a  king  in  Thu-u-le.'  ' 

"  Vronsky,  will  you  have  a  drink?  " 

"  Go  away,"  replied  the  latter,  who  was  putting  on  an 
overcoat  brought  him  by  his  valet. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Yashvin,  seeing  a  car- 
riage drawn  by  three  horses.  'k  Here's  the  troika." 

''  To  the  stables,  then  to  Briansky's  to  see  about  some 
horses,"  replied  Vronsky. 

He  had,  indeed,  promised  to  bring  some  money  to  Brian- 
sky,  who  lived  about  six  versts  from  Peterhof  ;  but  his  friends 
immediately  knew  that  he  was  going  in  another  direction. 

Petritsky  winked,  and  raised  his  eyebrows  as  though  he 
would  say,  u  We  know  who  this  Briansky  means." 

"  See  here,  don't  be  late,"  said  Yashvin;  and  changing 
the  subject,  "  And  my  roan,  does  she  suit  you?  "  he  asked, 
referring  to  the  middle  horse  of  the  team  which  he  had  sold. 

Just  as  Vronsky  left  the  room,  Petritsky  called  out  to  him, 
"  Hold  on  !  your  brother  left  a  note  and  a  letter.  Hold  on  ! 
where  did  I  put  them?  " 

Vronsky  waited  impatiently. 

"  Nn  !     Where  are  they?  " 

"  Where  are  they  indeed?  That's  the  question,"  declaimed 
Petritsky,  putting  his  forefinger  above  his  nose. 

"Speak  quick!  no  nonsense!"  said  Vronsky  good- 
naturedly. 

"•I  have  not  had  any  fire  in  the  fireplace:  where  can  I 
have  put  them  ?  ' ' 

"  Nu!  that's  enough  talk  !  where's  the  note?  " 

"  I  swear  I  have  forgotten  :  perhaps  I  dreamed  about  it. 
Wait,  wait !  don't  get  angry.  If  3-011  had  drunk  four  bottles, 
as  I  did  yesterda}-,  you  wouldn't  even  know  where  you  went 
to  bed.  Hold  on,  I'll  think  in  a  minute." 

Petritsky  went  behind  his  screen  again,  and  got  into  bed. 

"  Hold  on !  I  was  lying  here.  He  stood  there.  Da- 
da-da-da!  Ah  !  Here  it  is  !  "  And  he  pulled  the  letter  out 
from  under  the  mattress,  where  he  had  put  it. 

Vronsky  took  the  letter  and  his  brother's  note.  It  was 
exactly  as  he  expected.  His  mother  reproached  him 
because  he  had  not  been  to  see  her,  and  his  brother  said  he 
had  something  to  speak  to  him  about.  ''  What  concern  is  it 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  191 

of  theirs?"  he  murmured  ;  and,  crumpling  up  the  notes,  he 
thrust  them  between  his  coat-buttons,  intending  to  read  them 
more  carefully  on  the  way. 

Just  as  he  left  the  izba,  he  met  two  officers,  each  of  whom 
belonged  to  different  regiments.  Vronsky's  quarters  were 
always  the  headquarters  of  all  the  officers. 

"  Whither  away?  " 

"Must  — to  Peterhof." 

"  Has  your  horse  come  from  Tsarskoi'?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  not  seen  her  yet." 

"  They  say  Makhotin's  '  Gladiator  '  is  lame." 

"  Rubbish  !     But  how  could  you  trot  in  such  mud?  " 

"  Here  are  m}-  saviours,"  cried  Petritsky,  as  he  saw  the 
new-comers.  The  denshchik  was  standing  before  him  with 
vodka  and  salted  cucumbers  on  a  platter.  "  Yashviu,  here, 
ordered  me  to  drink,  so  as  to  be  refreshed." 

"  Nu!  You  were  too  much  for  us  last  night,"  said  one  of 
the  officers.  "  We  did  not  sleep  all  night." 

"  I  must  tell  you  how  it  ended,"  began  Petritsky.  "  Vol- 
kof  climbed  up  on  the  roof,  and  told  us  that  he  was  blue.  I 
sung  out,  '  Give  us  some  music,  — a  funeral  march.'  And  he 
went  to  sleep  on  the  roof  to  the  music  of  the  funeral  march." 

"  Drink,  drink  your  vodka  by  all  means,  and  then  take 
seltzer  and  a  lot  of  lemon,"  said  Yashvin,  encouraging  Pe- 
tritsky as  a  mother  encourages  her  child  to  swallow  some 
medicine. 

"  Now,  this  is  sense.  Hold  on,  Vronsky,  and  have  a  drink 
with  us!  " 

"  No.     Good-by,  gentlemen.     I  am  not  drinking  to-day." 

"Vronsky,"  cried  someone,  after  he  had  gone  into  the 
vestibule. 

"What?" 

"You'd  better  cut  off  your  hair:  it's  getting  very  long, 
especially  on  the  bald  spot." 

Vronsky,  in  fact,  was  beginning  to  get  a  little  bald.  He 
laughed  gayly,  and,  pulling  his  cap  over  his  forehead  where 
the  hair  was  thin,  he  went  out  and  got  into  his  carriage. 

"  To  the  stables,"  he  said. 

He  started  to  take  his  letters  for  a  second  reading,  but  on 
second  thought  deferred  them  so  that  he  might  think  of 
nothing  else  but  his  horse. 


192  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 


XXI. 

A  TEMPORARY  stable,  made  out  of  planks,  had  been  built 
near  the  race-course  ;  and  hither  Vronsky  had  to  go  to  see 
his  horse.  Only  the  trainer  had  as  yet  mounted  her ;  and 
Vronsky,  who  had  not  seen  her,  did  not  know  in  what  con- 
dition he  should  find  her.  He  was  just  getting  out  of  his 
carriage  when  his  konyukh  [groom],  a  young  fellow,  saw 
him  from  a  distance,  and  immediately  called  the  trainer. 
He  was  an  Englishman  with  withered  face  and  tufted  chin, 
and  dressed  in  short  jacket  and  top-boots.  He  came  out 
towards  Vronsky  in  the  mincing  step  peculiar  to  jockeys,  and 
with  elbows  sticking  out. 

"  Nu!  how  is  Frou  Frou?  "  said  Vronsky  in  English. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  the  Englishman,  in  a  voice  that  came 
out  of  the  bottom  of  his  throat.  "  Better  not  go  in,  sir,"  he 
added,  taking  off  his  hat.  "I  have  put  a  muzzle  on  her, 
and  that  excites  her.  If  any  one  comes  near,  it  makes  her 
nervous." 

"  No  matter  :  I  want  to  see  her." 

"Come  on,  then,"  replied  the  Englishman  testily;  and 
without  ever  opening  his  mouth,  and  with  his  dandified 
step,  he  led  the  way  to  the  stable.  An  active  and  alert 
stable-boy  in  a  clean  jacket,  with  whip  in  hand,  was  ready 
to  receive  them.  Five  horses  were  in  the  stable,  each  in  its 
own  stall.  Vronsky  knew  that  Makhotin's  Gladiator, — 
Vronsky's  most  redoubtable  rival,  —  a  chestnut  horse  of  five 
vershoks,  was  there,  and  he  was  more  curious  to  see  Gladiator 
than  to  see  his  own  racer ;  but  according  to  the  rules  of  the 
races,  he  could  not  have  him  brought  out,  or  even  ask  questions 
about  him.  As  he  passed  along  the  walk,  the  groom  opened 
the  door  of  the  second  stall,  and  Vronsky  saw  a  powerful 
chestnut  with  white  feet.  It  was  Gladiator :  he  recognized 
him,  but  he  instantly  turned  towards  Frou  Frou,  as  though 
he  had  seen  an  open  letter  which  was  not  addressed  to  him. 

"That  horse  belongs  to  Ma  —  k  —  mak,"  said  the  Eng- 
lishman, struggling  with  the  name,  and  pointing  to  Gladia- 
tor's stall  with  fingers  on  which  the  nails  were  black  with 
dirt. 

"Makhotin's?     Yes:  he  is  my  only  dangerous  rival." 

"  If  you  would  mount  him,  I  would  bet  on  you,"  said  the 
Englishman. 


ANNA   KARtfNINA.  193 

"  Frou  Frou  is  more  nervous;  this  one  stronger,"  said 
Vronsky,  smiling  at  the  jockey's  praise. 

"  In  hurdle-races,  all  depends  on  the  mount,  and  on 
pluck." 

Pluck, — that  is,  audacity  and  coolness, — Vronsky  knew 
that  he  had  in  abundance  ;  and,  what  is  more,  he  was  firmly 
convinced  that  no  one  could  have  more  than  he. 

"  You  are  sure  that  a  good  sweating  was  not  necessary?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  Englishman.  "  Don't  speak  so 
loud,  I  beg  of  you:  the  colt  is  restive,"  he  added,  jerking 
his  head  towards  the  stall  where  the  horse  was  heard  stamp- 
ing on  the  straw. 

He  opened  the  door,  and  Vronsky  entered  a  box-stall 
feebly  lighted  by  a  little  window.  A  brown  bay  horse, 
muzzled,  was  nervously  prancing  up  and  down  on  the  fresh 
straw. 

The  somewhat  imperfect  shape  of  his  favorite  horse  was 
instantly  manifest  to  Vronsky 's  eyes.  Frou  Frou  was  of 
medium  size,  with  slender  bones  ;  her  breast  was  narrow, 
though  the  breast-bone  was  prominent ;  the  crupper  was 
rather  tapering ;  and  the  legs,  particularly  the  hind-legs, 
considerably  bowed.  The  muscles  of  the  legs  were  not  large, 
but  the  flanks  were  very  enormous  on  account  of  the  training 
she  had  had,  and  the  smallness  of  her  belly.  The  bones  of 
the  legs  below  the  knee  seemed  not  thicker  than  a  finger,  seen 
from  the  front :  they  were  extraordinarily  large  when  seen 
sidewise.  The  whole  steed  seemed  squeezed  in  and  lengthened 
out.  But  she  had  one  merit  that  outweighed  all  her  faults  : 
she  had  good  blood,  —  was  a  thoroughbred,  as  the  English 
say.  Her  muscles  stood  out  under  a  network  of  veins,  cov- 
ered with  a  skin  as  smooth  and  soft  as  satin :  her  slender 
head,  with  prominent  eyes,  bright  and  animated  ;  her  delicate, 
mobile  nostrils,  which  seemed  suffused  with  blood,  —  all  the 
points  of  this  noble  animal  had  something  energetic,  decided, 
and  keen.  It  was  one  of  those  creatures  such  as  never  fail 
to  fulfil  their  promise  owing  to  defect  in  mechanical  construc- 
tion. Vronsky  felt  that  she  understood  him  while  he  was 
looking  at  her.  When  he  came  in,  she  was  taking  long 
breaths,  turning  her  head  round,  and  showing  the  whites  of 
her  bloodshot  eyes,  and  trying  to  shake  off  her  muzzle,  and 
dancing  on  her  feet  as  though  moved  by  springs. 

"  You  see  how  excited  she  is,"  said  the  Englishman. 

"Whoa,  my  loveliest,  whoa  !  "  said  Vronsky,  approaching 


194  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

to  calm  her ;  but  the  nearer  he  came,  the  more  nervous  she 
grew ;  and  only  when  he  had  caressed  her  head,  did  she 
become  tranquil.  He  could  feel  her  muscles  strain  and 
tremble  under  her  delicate,  smooth  skin.  Vronsky  patted 
her  beautiful  neck,  and  put  into  place  a  bit  of  her  mane 
that  she  had  tossed  on  the  other  side  ;  and  then  he  put  his 
face  close  to  her  nostrils,  which  swelled  and  dilated  like 
the  wings  of  a  bat.  She  snorted,  pricked  up  her  ears,  and 
stretched  out  her  long  black  lips  to  seize  his  sleeve  ;  but 
when  she  found  herself  prevented  by  her  muzzle,  she  began 
to  caper  again. 

"Quiet,  my  beauty,  quiet,"  said  Vronsky,  calming  her; 
and  he  left  the  stable  with  the  re-assuring  conviction  that  his 
horse  was  in  perfect  condition. 

But  the  nervousness  of  the  steed  had  taken  possession  of 
her  master.  Vronsky  felt  the  blood  rush  to  his  heart,  and, 
like  the  horse,  he  wanted  violent  action :  he  felt  like  biting. 
It  was  a  sensation  at  once  strange  and  joyful. 

"Well,  I  count  on  you,"  said  he  to  the  Englishman.  "  Be 
on  the  grounds  at  half-past  six." 

"All  shall  be  ready.  But  where  are  you  going,  my  lord?" 
asked  the  Englishman,  using  the  title  of  "lord,"  which  he 
never  permitted. 

Astonished  at  this  audacity,  Vronsky  raised  his  head,  and 
looked  at  him  as  he  well  understood  how  to  do,  not  into  his 
eyes,  but  on  his  forehead.  He  instantly  saw  that  the  Eng- 
lishman had  spoken  to  him,  not  as  to  his  master,  but  as  to 
a  jockey  ;  and  he  replied,  — 

"  I  have  got  to  see  Briansky,  and  I  shall  be  at  home  in  an 
hour." 

"  How  many  times  have  I  been  asked  that  question  to- 
day !  "  he  said  to  himself ;  and  he  blushed,  which  was  a  rare 
occurrence  with  him.  The  Englishman  looked  at  him  closely. 
He  also  seemed  to  know  where  his  master  was  going. 

"The  main  thing  is  to  keep  calm  before  the  race.  Don't 
do  any  thing  rash  ;  don't  get  bothered." 

"  All  right,"  replied  Vronsky  ;  and,  jumping  into  his  car- 
riage, he  drove  back  to  Peterhof. 

He  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  before  the  sky,  which 
had  been  overcast  since  morning,  grew  thicker,  and  it  began 
to  rain. 

"Too  bad!"  thought  Vronsky,  raising  the  hood  of  his 
carriage.  "  It  has  been  muddy  :  now  it  will  be  a  marsh." 


ANNA   EARfiNINA.  195 

Now  that  he  was  alone  again,  he  bethought  him  of  his 
mother's  letter  and  his  brother's  note,  and  began  to  read 
them  over.  It  was  always  the  old  story :  both  his  mother 
and  his  brother  took  it  upon  them  to  meddle  with  his  love- 
affairs.  He  was  indignant  and  even  angry,  —  a  most  unusual 
state  for  him. 

"  How  does  this  concern  them?  Why  do  they  feel  called 
upon  to  meddle  with  me,  to  bother  me  ?  Because  there  is 
something  about  this  that  they  don't  understand.  If  it  were 
a  vulgar  intrigue,  they  would  leave  me  in  peace ;  but  they 
imagine  that  it  isn't  a  mere  nothing,  that  this  woman  is  not 
a  mere  toy,  that  she  is  dearer  to  me  than  life :  that  would 
seem  incredible  and  vexatious  to  them.  Whatever  be  our 
fate,  we  ourselves  have  made  it,  and  we  shall  not  regret  it," 
he  said  to  himself,  including  Anna  in  the  word  "we."  "But 
no,  they  want  to  teach  us  the  meaning  of  life,  — they,  who 
have  no  idea  of  what  happiness  is.  The}-  don't  know  that, 
were  it  not  for  this  love,  there  would  be  for  me  neither  joy 
nor  grief  in  this  world:  life  itself  would  not  exist." 

In  realit}-,  what  exasperated  him  most  against  his  relatives 
was  the  fact  that  his  conscience  told  him  that  they  were  right. 
His  love  for  Anna  was  not  a  superficial  impulse,  destined, 
like  so  many  social  attachments,  to  disappear,  and  leave  no 
trace  beyond  sweet  or  painful  memories.  He  felt  keenly  all 
the  torture  of  their  situation,  all  its  difficulties  in%the  eyes 
of  the  world,  from  which  they  had  to  conceal  it  by  means  of 
ingenious  subterfuges,  deceptions,  and  lies  ;  and,  while  their 
mutual  passion  was  so  violent  and  absorbing  that  they  knew 
of  nothing  else,  yet  they  had  to  be  always  inventing  a  thou- 
sand stratagems  to  keep  it  from  others. 

This  constant  need  of  dissimulation  and  deceit  came  to 
him  urgently.  Nothing  was  more  contrary  to  his  nature, 
and  he  recalled  the  feeling  of  shame  which  he  had  often  sur- 
prised in  Anna,  when  she  also  was  driven  to  tell  a  lie. 

Since  this  affair  with  her,  he  sometimes  experienced  a 
strange  sensation  of  disgust  and  repulsion,  which  he  could 
not  define,  nor  could  he  tell  for  whom  he  felt  it,  —  for  Aleks£i 
Aleksandrovitch  or  himself,  for  society  or  for  the  entire  world. 
As  far  as  possible  he  banished  such  thoughts. 

"  Yes,  heretofore  she  has  been  unhappy,  but  proud  and 
calm :  now  she  cannot  be  so  any  longer,  however  she  may 
seem  to  try  to  appear  so." 

And  for  the  first  time  the  thought  of  cutting  short  this  life 


196  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

of  dissimulation  appeared  to  him  clear  and  tangible  :    the 
sooner,  the  better. 

"  We  must  leave  every  thing,  she  and  I,  and  together,  with 
our  love,  we  must  go  and  bury  ourselves  somewhere,"  he 
said  to  himself. 

XXII. 

THE  shower  was  of  short  duration  ;  and  when  Vronsky 
reached  Peterhof ,  his  shaft-horse  at  full  trot,  and  the  other 
two  galloping  along  in  the  mud,  the  sun  was  already  out 
again,  and  was  shining  on  the  roofs  of  the  villas  and  the  drip- 
ping foliage  of  the  old  lindens  in  the  neighboring  gardens, 
whose  shadows  fell  across  the  street.  The  water  was  run- 
ning from  the  roofs,  and  the  tree-tops  seemed  gayly  to  shake 
off  the  raindrops.  He  no  longer  thought  of  the  harm  that 
the  shower  might  do  the  race-course  :  but  he  was  full  of 
joy  as  he  remembered,  that,  thanks  to  the  rain,  she  would  be 
alone  ;  for  he  knew  that  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  who  had 
just  got  back  from  a  visit  to  the  baths,  would  not  leave  Pe- 
tersburg for  the  country. 

Vronsky  stopped  his  horses  at  some  little  distance  from  the 
house,  and,  in  order  to  attract  as  little  attention  as  possible, 
he  entered  the  court  on  foot,  instead  of  ringing  the  bell  at 
the  front^ entrance. 

"  Has  the  barin  come?  "  he  demanded  of  a  gardener. 

"  Not  yet ;  but  the  baruina  is  at  home.  If  you  ring,  they 
will  open  the  door." 

"  No :  I  will  go  in  through  the  garden." 

Knowing  that  she  was  alone,  he  wanted  to  surprise  her ; 
he  had  not  sent  word  that  he  was  coming,  and  on  account  of 
the  races  she  would  not  be  looking  for  him.  Therefore  he 
walked  cautiously  along  the  sandy  paths,  bordered  with 
flowers,  lifting  up  his  sabre  so  that  it  should  make  no  noise. 
In  this  way  he  reached  the  terrace  which  led  from  the  house 
down  to  the  garden.  The  anxieties  which  had  possessed 
him  on  the  way,  the  difficulties  of  their  situation,  were  now 
forgotten  :  he  thought  only  of  the  pleasure  of  shortly  seeing 
her, — her  in  reality,  in  person,  and  not  in  imagination  only. 
He  was  mounting  the  garden-steps  as  gently  as  possible, 
when  he  suddenly  remembered  the  most  painful  feature  of 
his  relations  with  her,  a  feature  that  he  was  always  forget- 
ting,—  her  son,  a  lad  with  a  most  inquisitive  face. 


ANNA   KAEfiNINA.  197 

This  child  was  the  principal  obstacle  in  the  way  of  their  in- 
terviews. In  his  presence  Anna  never  allowed  a  word  that  the 
whole  world  might  not  hear,  never  a  word  that  the  child  him- 
self could  not  comprehend.  There  was  no  need  of  an  agree- 
ment on  that  score.  Both  of  them  would  have  been  ashamed 
to  speak  a  single  word  to  deceive  the  little  lad :  before  him 
they  talked  as  though  they  were  mere  acquaintances.  But 
in  spite  of  these  precautions  Vronsky  often  felt  the  lad's 
scrutinizing  and  rather  suspicious  eyes  fixed  upon  him. 
Sometimes  he  seemed  timid,  again  affectionate,  but  never 
the  same.  The  child  seemed  instinctively  to  feel,  that,  be- 
tween this  man  and  his  mother  there  was  some  strange  bond 
of  union,  which  was  beyond  his  comprehension. 

The  boy,  indeed,  made  futile  efforts  to  understand  how  he 
ought  to  behave  before  this  gentleman  :  he  had  seen,  with 
that  quick  intuition  peculiar  to  childhood,  that  his  father,  his 
governess,  and  his  nurse  looked  with  the  utmost  disfavor  on 
the  man  whom  his  mother  treated  as  her  best  friend.  ' 

"  What  does  this  mean?  Who  is  he?  Must  I  love  him? 
and  is  it  my  fault,  and  am  I  a  naughty  or  stupid  child,  if  I 
don't  understand  it  at  all?"  thought  the  little  fellow. 
Hence  came  his  timidity,  his  questioning  and  distrustful 
manner,  and  this  changeableness,  which  were  so  unpleasant 
to  Vronsky.  Besides,  when  the  child  was  present,  he  always 
felt  that  apparently  unreasonable  repulsion,  which  for  some 
time  had  pursued  him. 

The  presence  of  the  child  was  to  Anna  and  Vronsky  like 
the  compass  to  a  ship-captain,  which  shows  that  he  is  drift- 
ing to  leeward  without  the  possibility  of  stopping  on  his 
course :  every  instant  carries  him  farther  and  farther  in  the 
wrong  direction,  and  the  recognition  of  the  movement  that 
carries  him  from  the  right  course  is  the  recognition  of  the 
ruin  that  impends. 

The  boy  this  day  was  not  at  home.  Anna  was  entirely 
alone,  and  sitting  on  the  terrace,  waiting  for  her  son's  re- 
turn, as  the  rain  had  overtaken  him  while  out  on  his  walk. 
She  had  sent  a  man  and  a  maid  to  find  him.  Dressed  in  a 
white  embroidered  robe,  she  was  sitting  at  one  corner  of  the 
terrace,  concealed  by  plants  and  flowers,  and  she  did  not 
hear  Vronsky's  step.  With  bent  head,  she  was  pressing  her 
heated  brow  against  a  cool  watering-pot,  standing  on  the 
balustrade.  With  her  beautiful  hands  laden  with  rings, 
which  he  knew  so  well,  she  had  pulled  the  watering-pot  to- 


198  ANNA  KAKfiNINA. 

wards  her.  Her  lovely  figure,  her  graceful  head,  with  its 
dark,  curling  locks,  her  neck,  her  hands,  all  struck  Vronsky 
every  time  that  he  saw  her,  and  always  caused  a  new  feeling 
of  surprise.  He  stopped  and  looked  at  her  in  ecstasy. 
She  instinctively  felt  his  approach,  and  he  had  hardly  taken 
a  step  when  she  pushed  away  the  watering-pot  and  turned  to 
him  her  glowing  face. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  Are  you  ill  ?  "  said  he,  in  French, 
as  he  advanced  towards  her.  He  felt  a  desire  to  run  towards 
her,  but  in  the  fear  of  being  seen,  he  looked  around  him  and 
towards  the  door  of  the  balcony  with  a  feeling  that  filled 
him  with  shame,  as  though  any  thing  should  make  him  fear 
or  be  untruthful. 

"  No  :  I  am  not  well,"  said  Anna,  rising,  and  pressing  the 
hand  that  he  offered  her.  "  I  did  not  expect  —  3~ou." 

"  Bozhe  mo'i !  how  cold  3'our  hands  are  !  " 

"  You  startled  me.  I  am  alone,  waiting  for  Serozha,  who 
went  out  for  a  walk  :  they  will  come  back  this  way." 

In  spite  of  the  calmness  which  she  tried  to  show,  her  lips 
trembled. 

"  Forgive  me  for  coming,  but  I  could  not  let  the  day  go 
by  without  seeing  you,"  he  continued,  in  French,  thus  avoid- 
ing the  impossible  vui  [you]  and  the  dangerous  tui  [them] 
of  the  Russian. 

"  What  have  I  to  forgive?    I  am  too  glad  !  " 

"  But  you  are  ill,  or  sad? "  said  he,  bending  over  her  and 
still  holding  her  hand.  "•  What  were  you  thinking  about?  " 

"  Always  about  one  thing,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile. 

She  told  the  truth.  AVhenever,  in  the  day,  she  was  asked 
what  she  was  thinking  about,  she  would  have  made  the  in- 
variable reply,  that  she  was  thinking  about  her  future  and 
her  misfortune.  Just  as  he  came,  she  was  asking  herself  why 
some,  like  Betsy  for  example,  whose  love-affair  with  Tush- 
kievitch  she  knew  about,  could  treat  so  lightly  what  to  her 
was  so  cruel.  This  thought  had  particularly  tormented  her 
to-day.  She  spoke  with  him  about  the  races  ;  and  he,  to 
divert  her  mind,  told  her  about  the  preparation  that  had 
been  made.  His  tone  remained  perfectly  calm  and  natural. 

"  Shall  I,  or  shall  I  not,  tell  him?"  she  thought,  as  she 
looked  at  his  calm,  affectionate  eyes.  "  He  seems  so  happ}*, 
he  is  so  interested  in  these  races,  that  he  will  not  compre- 
hend, probably,  the  importance  of  what  I  must  tell  him." 

"  But  you  have  not  told  ine  of  what  you  were  thinking 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  199 

when  I  first  came,"  said  he  suddenly,  interrupting  the 
course  of  his  narration.  "  Tell  me,  I  beg  of  you  !  " 

She  did  not  reply  ;  but  she  lifted  her  head,  and  turned  her 
beautiful  eyes  toward  him  ;  her  look  was  full  of  questioning  ; 
her  fingers  played  with  a  fallen  leaf.  Vronsky's  face  imme- 
diately showed  the  expression  of  humble  adoration,  of  abso- 
lute devotion,  which  had  first  won  her  heart. 

"I  feel  that  something  has  happened.  Can  I  be  easy 
for  an  instant  when  I  know  that  you  feel  a  grief  that  I  do 
not  share?  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  speak  !  "  he  insisted,  ill 
a  tone  of  entreaty. 

"  If  he  does  not  appreciate  the  importance  of  what  I  have 
to  tell  him,  I  know  that  I  shall  never  forgive  him  ;  better  be 
silent  than  put  him  to  the  proof,"  she  thought,  continuing  to 
look  at  him  :  her  hand  trembled. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  is  it?  "  said  he,  taking  her 
hand  again. 

"Shall  I  tell  you?" 

"•Yes,  yes,  yes  "  — 

"  Ya  beremenna  !  "  she  whispered. 

The  leaf  which  she  held  in  her  fingers  trembled  still  more, 
but  she  did  not  take  her  eyes  from  his  face,  for  she  was  try- 
ing to  read  there  whether  he  understood  her. 

He  grew  pale,  tried  to  speak,  then  stopped  short,  and  hung 
his  head,  dropping  her  hand  which  he  was  holding  in  both 
his. 

But  she  was  mistaken  in  thinking  that  he  felt  as  she  did. 
The  feeling  of  repulsion  and  horror  which  had  been  so  famil- 
iar to  him  of  late,  now  seized  him  more  strongly  than  ever. 
Her  husband  was  coming  home,  and  it  was  important  to  ex- 
tricate themselves  as  soon  as  possible  from  the  odious  and 
miserable  situation  in  which  they  were  placed.  Anna's  anx- 
iety seized  Vronsky.  He  looked  at  her  with  humbly  submis- 
sive eyes,  kissed  her  hand,  arose,  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  terrace  without  speaking. 

At  last  he  approached  her,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  decis- 
ion, — 

"Da/"  said  he:  "  neither  you  nor  I  have  looked  upon 
our  love  for  each  other  as  a  fleeting  joy  ;  at  last  we  must  put 
an  end  to  the  false  situation  in  which  we  live,"  —  and  he 
looked  around  him. 

"Put  an  end?  How  put  an  end,  Aleks£i?"  she  asked 
gently. 


200  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

She  was  calm,  and  smiled  upon  him  tenderly. 

"You  must  quit  your  husband,  and  unite  your  life  with 
mine." 

"  But  aren't  they  already  united?  "  she  asked  in  an  under- 
tone. 

"  Yes,  but  not  completely,  not  absolutely  !  " 

"  But  how,  Aleksei?  tell  me  how,"  said  she,  with  a  melan- 
choly irony,  seeming  to  think  that  the  situation  was  irretriev- 
able. "  Am  I  not  the  wife  of  my  husband?  " 

"  From  any  situation,  however  difficult,  there  is  always 
some  way  of  escape  :  here  we  must  simply  be  decided.  — 
Any  thing  is  better  than  the  life  you  are  leading.  How  well 
I  see  how  you  torment  yourself  about  your  husband,  your 
son,  society,  all !  " 

"Ach!  only  not  my  husband,"  said  she  with  a  smile. 
"  I  don't  know  him,  I  don't  think  about  him  !  He  is  not." 

"  You  speak  insincerely  !  I  know  you  :  you  torment  your- 
self on  his  account  also." 

"But  he"  —  then  suddenly  the  tears  came  in  her  eyes. 
"  Let  us  not  speak  more  of  him." 


XXIII. 

IT  was  not  the  first  time  that  Vronsky  had  tried  to  bring 
clearly  before  her  mind  their  position.  He  had  always  met 
the  same  superficial  and  almost  ridiculous  views.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  she  was  under  control  of  feelings  which  she  was 
unwilling  or  unable  to  fathom,  and  she,  the  real  Anna,  dis- 
appeared, to  give  place  to  a  strange  and  incomprehensible 
being,  which  he  could  not  understand,  and  which  seemed 
almost  repulsive  to  him.  To-day  he  was  bound  to  have  an 
absolute  explanation.  "  Under  any  circumstances,"  he  said 
in  a  calm  but  authoritative  voice,  "  we  cannot  continue  as 
we  are." 

"  What,  in  your  opinion,  must  we  do  about  it?  "  she  de- 
manded, in  the  same  tone  of  ironical  raillery.  Though  she 
had  been  so  keenly  afraid  that  he  would  not  receive  her  con- 
fidence with  due  appreciation,  she  was  now  vexed  that  he 
deduced  from  it  the  absolute  necessity  of  energetic  action. 

"Tell  him  all,  and  leave  him." 

"  Very  good  !  Suppose  I  do  it.  Do  you  know  what  the 
result  would  be?  I  will  tell  you  ;  "  and  a  wicked  fire  flashed 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  201 

from  her  eyes,  which  were  just  now  so  gentle.  "  '  Oh !  you 
love  another,  and  your  course  with  him  has  been  criminal,'  " 
said  she,  imitating  her  husband,  and  accenting  the  word 
criminal  in  exactly  his  manner.  "  '  I  warned  you  of  the  con- 
sequences which  would  follow  from  the  point  of  view  of  reli- 
gion, of  society,  and  of  the  family.  You  did  not  listen  to 
me :  now  I  cannot  allow  my  name  to  be  dishonored,  and 
my'  "  — she  was  going  to  say  my  scm,  but  stopped,  for  she 
could  not  jest  about  him.  u  In  a  word,  he  will  tell  me  with 
the  same  manner  and  with  the  same  perfect  precision  as  he 
conducts  the  affairs  of  state,  that  he  cannot  set  me  free,  but 
that  he  will  take  measures  to  avoid  a  scandal.  And  he  will 
do  exactly  as  he  sa}-s.  That  is  what  will  take  place  ;  for  he 
is  not  a  man,  he  is  a  machine,  and,  when  he  is  stirred  up, 
an  ugly  machine,"  said  she,  remembering  the  most  trifling 
details  in  her  husband's  language  and  face,  and  felt  ready  to 
reproach  him  for  all  the  ill  that  he  found  in  her  with  all  the 
less  indulgence  because  she  recognized  her  own  fault. 

"  But,  Anna,"  said  Vronsky  gently,  hoping  to  convince 
her  and  calm  her,  "  you  must  tell  him  every  thing,  and  then 
we  will  act  accordingly  as  he  proceeds." 

"What!  elope ?" 

"  Why  not  elope?  I  don't  see  the  possibility  of  living  as 
we  are  any  longer :  it  is  not  on  my  account,  but  I  see  you 
will  suffer." 

"What!  elope,  and  confess  myself  openly  as  your  mis- 
tress?" said  she  bitterly. 

"Anna!  "  he  cried,  deeply  wounded. 

"  Yes,  as  your  mistress,  and  lose  every  thing  !  "  She  was 
going  to  say  my  son,  but  she  could  not  pronounce  the  word. 

Vronsky  could  not  understand  how  this  strong,  loyal  nature 
could  accept  the  false  position  in  which  she  was  placed,  and 
not  endeavor  to  escape  from  it.  But  he  could  not  doubt 
that  the  principal  obstacle  was  represented  by  this  word  son, 
which  she  was  unable  to  pronounce. 

When  Anna  imagined  this  child's  existence  with  a  father 
whom  she  had  deserted,  the  horror  of  her  sin  appeared  so 
great,  that  like  a  real  woman  she  was  not  able  to  reason,  but 
only  endeavored  to  re-assure  herself  and  persuade  herself 
that  all  would  go  on  as  before :  above  all  things,  she  must 
shut  her  eyes,  and  forget  this  odious  thought,  what  would 
become  of  her  son. 

"  I  beg  of  you,  I  entreat  you,"  she  said  suddenly,  speak- 


202  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

ing  in  a  very  different  tone,  a  tone  of  tenderness  and  sincer- 
ity, "  don't  ever  speak  to  me  of  that  again." 

"  But,  Anna"  — 

"Never,  never!  Let  me  remain  judge  of  the  situation. 
I  appreciate  the  depth  of  its  misery,  but  it  is  not  so  easy  as 
you  imagine  to  decide.  Have  faith  in  me,  and  never  speak 
to  me  again  of  that.  Will  you  promise  me?  never,  never? 
promise !  " 

"I  promise  all;  but  how  can  I  be  calm  when  you  may 
be"  — 

"  I?  "  she  repeated.  "  It  is  true  that  I  torment  myself, 
but  that  will  pass  if  you  will  not  say  any  thing  more  about 
it." 

"  I  don't  understand  "  — 

"I  know,"  she  interrupted,  "how  j'our  honest  nature 
abhors  lying :  I  am  sorry  for  you  ;  and  very  often  I  tell  my- 
self that  you  have  sacrificed  your  life  for  me." 

44  That  is  exactly  what  I  say  about  you.  I  was  just  this 
moment  asking  if  you  could  immolate  yourself  for  me.  I 
cannot  forgive  myself  for  having  made  you  unhappy." 

44  I  unhappy?"  said  she,  coming  up  close  to  him,  and 
looking  at  him  with  a  smile  full  of  love.  "I?  I  am  like 
a  man  dying  of  hunger,  to  whom  food  has  been  given.  May- 
be he  is  cold,  and  his  raiment  is  rags,  but  he  is  not  unhappy. 
I  unhappy?  No  :  here  comes  my  joy  "  — 

The  voice  of  her  little  boy  was  heard  as  he  came  in. 
Anna  gave  a  hurried  glance  around  her,  swiftly  arose,  and, 
putting  out  her  long  hands  covered  with  rings,  she  took 
Vronsky's  face  between  them :  she  looked  at  him  a  long 
moment,  reached  her  face  up  to  his,  kissed  his  lips  and  his 
eyes,  and  left  him.  He  kept  her  back  a  moment. 

44  When?  "  he  whispered,  looking  at  her  with  ecstasy. 

44  To-day  at  the  right  time,"  she  replied  in  a  low  voice,  and 
then  she  ran  to  meet  her  son.  Serozha  had  been  caught  by 
the  rain  in  the  park,  and  had  taken  refuge  with  his  nurse  in 
a  pavilion. 

"Nu!.  but  good-by,"  said  she  to  Vronsky.  "  I  must  get 
ready  for  the  races.  Betsy  has  promised  to  come  and  get 
me." 

Vronsky  looked  at  his  watch,  and  hurried  away. 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  203 


XXIV. 

WHEN  Vronsky  looked  at  his  watch  on  the  Kar£nins'  bal- 
cony, he  was  so  stirred  and  pre-occupied,  that,  though  he  saw 
the  figures  on  the  face,  he  did  not  know  what  time  it  was. 
He  hurried  out  of  the  entrance,  and,  picking  his  way  care- 
fully through  the  mud,  he  reached  his  carriage.  He  had 
been  so  absorbed  by  his  conversation  with  Anna  that  he  had 
forgotten  entirely  about  his  appointment  with  Briansk}". 
His  memory  was  scarcely  more  than  instinctive,  and  only 
recalled  to  him  that  he  had  decided  to  do  something.  He 
found  his  coachman  asleep  on  his  box  under  the  shade  of  the 
lindens  ;  he  noticed  the  swarms  of  flies  buzzing  around  his 
sweaty  horses  ;  and  then,  mechanically  waking  the  coachman, 
he  jumped  into  his  carriage,  and  was  driven  to  Briansky's  ; 
he  had  gone  but  six  or  seven  versts  when  his  presence  of 
mind  returned;  it  then  came  over  him  that  he  was  late,  and 
he  looked  at  his  watch  again  ;  it  was  half-past  five. 

On  this  day  there  were  to  be  several  races :  first  the 
draught-horses,  then  the  officers'  t\vo-verst  dash,  then  a 
second  of  four,  and  last  that  in  which  he  was  to  take  part. 
If  he  hurried,  he  could  be  on  time  by  letting  Briansky  have 
the  go-b\- ;  otherwise  he  ran  the  risk  of  getting  to  the  grounds 
after  the  Court  had  arrived,  and  this  was  not  in  good  form. 
Unfortunately  he  had  promised  Briansky,  therefore  he  kept 
on, commanding  the  coachman  not  to  spare  the  troika.  Five 
minutes  with  Briansky,  and  he  was  off  again  at  full  speed. 
He  found  that  the  rapid  motion  did  him  good.  Little  by 
little  he  forgot  his  anxieties,  and  felt  only  the  excitement  of 
the  race,  and  imagined  the  brilliant  society  which  would 
gather  to-day  at  the  course.  And  he  got  more  and  more  into 
the  atmosphere  of  the  races  as  he  met  people  coming  from 
Petersburg  and  the  surrounding  country,  on  their  way  to  the 
hippodrome. 

When  he  reached  his  quarters,  no  one  was  at  home  except 
his  valet,  who  was  waiting  for  him  at  the  entrance.  Every- 
body had  gone  to  the  races.  While  he  was  changing  his 
clothes,  his  valet  told  him  that  the  second  race  had  already 
begun,  that  a  number  of  people  had  been  to  inquire  for  him. 

Vronsky  dressed  without  haste,  —  for  it  was  his  custom  to 
keep  calm,  and  not  lose  his  self-command,  — and  then  directed 
the  coachman  to  take  him  to  the  stables.  From  there  he  saw 


204  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

a  sea  of  carriages  of  all  sorts,  of  pedestrians,  soldiers,  and 
of  spectators,  approaching  the  hippodrome.  The  second 
course  was  certainly  run,  for  just  at  that  moment  he  heard 
the  sound  of  a  bell.  He  noticed  near  the  stable  Makhotin's 
white-footed  chestnut  Gladiator,  which  they  were  leading  out, 
covered  with  a  blue  and  orange  caparison,  and  with  huge  ear- 
protectors. 

"  Where  is  Cord?  "  he  asked  of  the  groom. 

"  In  the  stable  :  he  is  fixing  the  saddle." 

Frou  Frou  was  all  saddled  in  her  box-stall,  and  now  they 
came  leading  her  out. 

"I  wasn't  late,  was  I?" 

"  All  right,  all  right,"  said  the  Englishman.  "  Don't  get 
excited." 

Vronsk}-  once  more  gave  a  quick  glance  at  the  excellent, 
favorable  shape  of  his  horse,  as  she  stood  trembling  in  every 
limb  ;  and,  with  a  feeling  of  regret,  he  left  her  at  the  stable. 
He  saw  that  it  was  a  favorable  chance  to  approach  without 
attracting  observation.  The  two-verst  dash  was  just  at  an 
end,  and  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  a  Jcavalergard  (cavalry  guards- 
man) ,  and  a  hussar  just  at  his  heels,  whipping  their  horses 
furiously,  and  approaching  the  goal.  The  crowd  flowed  in 
from  all  sides,  and  a  group  of  officers  and  guardsmen  were 
hailing  with  shouts  the  triumph  of  their  fellow-officer  and 
friend. 

Vronsky  joined  the  throng  just  as  the  bell  announced  the 
end  of  the  race  ;  while  the  victor  dropped  the  reins,  and 
slipped  off  from  the  saddle,  and  stood  by  his  roan  stallion, 
who  was  dripping  with  sweat,  and  heavily  breathing. 

The  stallion,  with  painfully  heaving  sides,  with  legs  apart, 
stopped  with  difficulty  his  rapid  course  ;  and  the  officer,  as 
though  awakening  from  a  dream,  was  looking  about  him  with 
a  gaze  of  wonder.  A  throng  of  friends  and  curious  stran- 
gers pressed  about  him. 

Vronsky,  with  intention,  avoided  the  elegant  people  who 
were  circulating  about,  engaged  in  gay  and  animated  conver- 
sation. He  had  already  caught  sight  of  Anna,  Betsy,  and 
his  brother's  wife.  He  did  not,  however,  join  them,  so  that 
he  might  not  be  disconcerted ;  but  at  every  step  he  met  ac- 
quaintances who  stopped  him,  and  told  him  various  items 
about  the  last  race,  or  asked  him  why  he  was  late. 

While  they  were  distributing  the  prizes  at  the  pavilion, 
and  everybody  was  hurrying  in  this  direction,  Vronsky  saw 


ANNA  KAItfiNINA.  205 

his  elder  brother,  Aleksandr.  Like  Aleksei,  he  was  a  man 
of  medium  stature,  and  rather  stubb}- ;  but  he  was  hand- 
somer and  ruddier.  His  nose  was  red,  and  his  face  was 
flushed  with  wine,  and  he  had  an  evil  expression.  He  wore 
a  colonel's  uniform  with  epaulets. 

"  Did  you  get  my  note?  "  he  asked  of  his  brother.  "You 
are  never  to  be  found." 

Aleksandr  Vronsky,  in  spite  of  his  life  of  dissipation  and 
his  love  for  drink,  was  a  thoroughly  aristocratic  man.  Know- 
ing that  many  eyes  were  fixed  on  them,  he  preserved,  while 
he  talked  with  his  brother  on  a  very  painful  subject,  the  smil- 
ing face  of  a  person  who  is  jesting  about  some  trifling  matter. 

"  I  got  it,"  said  he,  "  but  I  don't  really  understand  why 
you  meddle  with  me." 

"•I  meddle  because  I  noticed  your  absence  this  morning, 
and  because  you  were  not  at  Peterhof  Monday." 

"There  are  matters  which  cannot  be  judged  except  by 
those  who  are  directly  interested,  and  the  matter  in  which 
you  concern  yourself  is  such  ' '  — 

"  Yes  ;  but  when  one  is  not  in  the  service,  he  "  — 

"  I  beg  you  to  mind  your  own  business,  and  that  is  all." 

Aleksei  Vronsky  grew  pale,  and  his  rather  prominent  lower 
jaw  shook.  He  was  a  man  of  kindly  heart,  and  rarely  got 
angry  ;  but  when  he  grew  angry,  and  when  his  chin  trembled, 
he  became  dangerous.  Aleksandr  Vronsky  knew  it,  and 
with  a  gay  laugh  replied, — 

"I  only  wanted  to  give  you  mdtushka's  letter.  Don't  get 
angry  before  the  race.  Bonne  chance,"  he  added  in  French, 
and  left  him. 

He  had  scarcely  turned  away,  when  another  friendly  greet- 
ing surprised  Yronsky. 

"  ^Yon't  you  recognize  your  friends  ?  How  are  you,  mon 
cJier?"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  who,  in  the  midst  of  the 
brilliant  society  of  Petersburg,  was  no  less  gay  and  animated 
than  at  Moscow,  and  now  appeared  with  rosy  face  and  care- 
fully combed  and  pomaded  whiskers. 

"  I  came  down  this  morning,  and  am  very  glad  to  be  pres- 
ent at  your  triumph.  Where  can  we  meet?  " 

"Come  to  the  mess,  after  the  race  is  over,"  said  Vronsky  ; 
and  with  an  apology  for  leaving  him.  he  squeezed  his  hand, 
and  went  towards  the  place  where  the  horses  were  getting 
ready  for  the  hurdle-race. 

The  grooms  were  leading  back  the  horses,  wearied  by  the 


206  ANNA  KAKfiNINA. 

race  which  they  had  run  ;  and  one  by  one  those  intended 
for  the  next  course  appeared  on  the  ground.  They  were,  for 
the  most  part,  English  horses,  in  hoods,  and  well  capari- 
soned, and  looked  for  all  the  world  like  enormous  strange 
birds.  Frou  Frou,  beautiful,  though  she  was  so  thin,  came 
out  stepping  high,  with  her  elastic  and  slender  pasterns. 
And  not  far  from  her  they  were  removing  the  trappings  from 
the  lop-eared  Gladiator.  The  regular,  solid,  and  superb  form 
of  the  stallion,  with  his  splendid  crupper  and  his  extraordi- 
narily large  and  well-balanced  hoofs,  attracted  Vronsky's 
admiration.  He  was  just  going  up  to  Frou  Frou  when 
another  acquaintance  stopped  him  again  on  his  way. 

"Ha!  there  is  Kareuin  :  he  is  hunting  for  his  wife.  She 
is  in  the  pavilion.  Have  you  seen  her?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  replied  Vronsky  ;  and,  without  turning 
his  head  in  the  direction  where  his  acquaintance  told  him 
that  Madame  Kare'nina  was,  he  went  to  his  horse. 

He  had  scarcely  time  to  make  some  adjustment  of  the  sad- 
dle, when  those  who  were  to  compete  in  the  hurdle-race  were 
called  to  receive  their  numbers.  With  serious,  stern,  and 
almost  solemn  faces,  they  approached,  seventeen  men  in  all; 
and  some  of  them  were  rather  pale.  Vrousky's  number  was 
seven. 

"  Mount !  "  was  the  cry. 

Vronsky,  feeling  that  he,  with  his  companions,  was  the 
focus  toward  which  all  eyes  were  turned,  went  up  to  his 
horse  with  the  slow  and  deliberate  motions  which  were  usual 
to  him  when  he  was  not  entirely  at  his  ease. 

Cord,  in  honor  of  the  races,  had  put  on  his  gala-day  cos- 
tume :  he  wore  a  black  coat,  buttoned  to  the  chin,  and  an 
enormously  high  shirt-collar,  which  made  his  cheeks  puff  out ; 
he  had  on  Hessian  boots  and  a  round  black  cap.  Calm,  but 
full  of  importance,  he  stood  by  the  mare's  head,  holding  the 
reins  in  his  hand.  Frou  Frou  shivered  as  though  she  had  an 
attack  of  fever :  her  fiery  eyes  gazed  askance  at  Vronsky. 
He  passed  his  finger  under  the  flap  of  the  saddle.  The 
mare  jumped  back,  and  pricked  up  her  ears  ;  and  the  English- 
man puckered  up  his  lips  with  a  grin  at  the  idea  that  there 
could  be  any  doubt  as  to  his  skill  in  putting  on  a  saddle. 
"  Mount,  and  3*011  won't  be  so  nervous,"  said  he. 

Vrousky  cast  a  final  glance  on  his  rivals :  he  knew  that  he 
should  not  see  them  again  until  the  race  was  over.  Tur  had 
already  gone  to  the  starting-point.  Galtsuiu,  a  friend  of  his, 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  207 

and  one  of  the  best  of  racers,  was  turning  around  and  around 
his  bay  stallion,  without  being  able  to  mount.  A  little  hussar 
in  tight  cavalry  trousers  was  off  on  a  gallop,  bent  double  over 
his  horse,  like  a  cat  with  the  gripes,  in  imitation  of  the 
English  fashion.  Prince  Kuzoflef,  white  as  a  sheet,  was 
trying  to  mount  a  thoroughbred  mare,  which  an  Englishman 
held  by  the  bridle.  Vrousky  and  all  his  comrades  knew 
Kuzoflef's  terrible  self-conceit,  and  his  feeble  nerves.  They 
knew  that  he  was  timid  at  every  thing,  especially  timid  of 
riding  horseback  ;  but  now,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  all 
this  was  horrible  to  him,  because  he  knew  that  people  broke 
their  necks,  and  that  at  every  hurdle  stood  a  surgeon,  an 
ambulance  with  its  cross  and  sister  of  charity,  still  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  ride. 

They  exchanged  glances,  and  Vronsky  gave  him  an  en- 
couraging nod.  One  only  he  now  failed  to  see :  his  most 
redoubtable  rival,  Makhotiu,  on  Gladiator,  was  not  there. 

"  Don't  be  in  haste,"  said  Cord  to  Vronsky,  "  and  don't 
forget  this  one  important  point ;  when  you  come  to  a  hurdle, 
don't  pull  back  or  spur  on  }-our  horse ;  let  her  take  it  her 
own  way." 

"  Very  good,"  replied  Vrousky,  taking  the  reins. 

"  If  possible,  take  the  lead,  but  don't  be  discouraged  if 
for  a  few  minutes  you  are  behind." 

The  horse  did  not  have  time  to  stir  before  Vronsk}*,  with 
supple  and  powerful  movement,  put  his  foot  on  the  notched 
steel  stirrup,  and  gracefully,  firmly,  took  his  seat  on  the 
squeaking  leather  saddle.  Then  he  arranged  the  double 
reins  between  his  fingers,  and  Cord  let  go  the  animal's  head. 
Frou  Frou  stretched  out  her  neck,  and  pulled  upon  the  reins 
as  though  she  wanted  to  ask  what  sort  of  a  gait  would  be  re- 
quired of  her  ;  and  she  started  off  at  an  easy,  elastic  pace,  bal- 
ancing her  rider  on  her  strong,  flexible  back.  Cord  followed 
them  with  mighty  strides.  The  mare,  excited,  jumped  to 
right  and  left,  trying  to  take  her  master  off  his  guard  ;  and 
Vronsky  vainly  endeavored  to  calm  her  with  his  voice  and 
with  his  hand. 

They  were  approaching  the  river-bank,  where  the  starting- 
post  was  placed.  Vronsky,  preceded  by  some,  followed  by 
others,  suddenly  heard  on  the  muddy  track  the  gallop  of  a 
horse  ;  and  Gladiator,  with  Makhotin  on  his  back,  smiling, 
and  showing  his  long  teeth,  dashed  by.  Vronsky  looked  at 
him  angrily.  He  did  not  like  Makhotin  any  too  well,  and 


208  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

now  he  was  his  most  dangerous  rival :  so  this  fashion  of  gal- 
loping up  behind  him,  and  exciting  his  mare,  displeased  and 
angered  him. 

Frou  Frou  kicked  up  her  heels,  and  started  off  in  a  gallop, 
made  two  bounds,  and  then,  feeling  the  restraint  of  the  curb, 
changed  her  gait  into  a  trot  which  shook  up  her  rider.  Cord, 
disgusted,  ran  almost  as  fast,  and  kept  up  by  his  master's 
side. 

XXV. 

THE  race-course  was  a  great  ellipse  of  four  versts,  extend- 
ing before  the  judges'  stand,  and  nine  obstacles  were  placed 
upon  it:  the  rekd  [river]  ;  a  great  barrier,  two  ar shins  [4.66 
feet]  high,  in  front  of  the  pavilion  ;  a  dry  ditch  ;  a  ditch 
filled  with  water  ;  a  steep  ascent ;  an  Irish  banquette,  which 
is  the  most  difficult  of  all,  composed  of  an  embankment  cov- 
ered with  twigs,  behind  which  is  concealed  a  ditch,  obliging 
the  horseman  to  leap  two  obstacles  at  once,  at  the  risk  of 
his  life  ;  then  three  more  ditches,  two  filled  with  water ;  and 
finally  the  goal  opposite  the  pavilion  again.  The  track  did 
not  begin  in  the  circle  itself,  but  about  a  hundred  sdzhens 
(seven  hundred  feet)  to  one  side ;  and  in  this  space  was  the 
first  obstacle,  the  brimming  rekd,  about  three  arshins  (seven 
feet)  in  width,  which  they  were  free  to  leap  or  to  ford. 

Three  times  the  seventeen  riders  got  into  line,  but  each 
time  some  horse  or  other  started  before  the  signal,  and  the 
men  had  to  be  called  back.  Colonel  Sestrin,  the  starter,  was 
beginning  to  get  impatient ;  but  at  last,  for  the  fourth  time, 
the  signal  was  given,  "Go!"  and  the  riders  spurred  their 
horses. 

All  eyes,  all  lorgnettes,  were  directed  towards  the  racers. 

"There  they  go!"  "There  they  come!"  was  shouted 
on  all  sides. 

And  in  order  to  follow  them,  the  spectators  rushed,  sin- 
gly or  in  groups,  towards  the  places  where  they  could  get  a 
better  view.  At  the  first  moment  the  horsemen  scattered 
a  little  as  they,  in  threes  and  twos  and  singly,  one  after  the 
other,  approached  the  rekd.  From  a  distance  they  seemed 
like  an  undistinguishable  mass,  but  these  fractions  of  sepa- 
ration had  their  own  value. 

Frou  Frou,  excited  and  too  nervous  at  first,  lost  ground, 
and  several  of  the  horses  were  ahead  of  her;  but  Vrousky, 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  209 

though  he  had  not  yet  leaped  the  rekd,  and  was  trying  to 
calm  her  as  she  pulled  on  the  bridle,  soon  easily  outstripped 
the  three  who  had  won  on  him,  and  now  had  as  competitors 
only  Gladiator,  who  was  a  whole  length  ahead,  and  the 
pretty  Diana,  on  whose  back  clung  the  unhappy  Prince  Ku- 
zoflef,  not  knowing  whether  he  was  dead  or  alive. 

During  these  first  few  seconds  Vronsky  had  no  more  con- 
trol of  himself  than  of  his  horse. 

Gladiator  and  Diana  leaped  the  rekd  at  almost  one  and 
the  same  moment.  Frou  Frou  lightly  leaped  behind  them,  as 
though  she  had  wings.  The  instant  that  Vrousky  was  in 
the  air,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Kuzoflef  almost  under  the 
feet  of  his  horse,  wrestling  with  Diana  on  the  other  side  of 
the  rekd.  Vronsky  heard  after  the  race,  how  Kuzoflef  had 
loosened  the  reins  after  Diana  jumped,  and  the  horse  had 
stumbled,  throwing  him  on  his  head.  But  at  this  time  he 
only  saw  that  Frou  Frou  was  going  to  land  on  Diana's  head. 
But  Frou  Frou,  like  a  falling  cat,  making  a  desperate  effort 
with  back  and  legs  as  she  leaped,  lauded  beyond  the  fallen 
racer. 

"  O  my  beauty  !  "  thought  Vronsky. 

After  the  rekd  he  regained  full  control  of  his  horse,  and 
even  held  her  back  a  little,  meaning  to  leap  the  great  hurdle 
behind  Makhotin,  whom  he  had  no  hopes  of  outstripping 
before  they  reached  the  long  stretch  of  about  two  hundred 
sdzhens  [fourteen  hundred  feet],  which  was  free  of  obstacles. 

This  great  hurdle  was  built  exactly  in  front  of  the  Imperial 
Pavilion :  the  Emperor,  the  court,  and  an  immense  throng, 
were  watching  as  they  drew  near  it.  Vronsky  felt  all  these 
eyes  fixed  on  him  from  every  side ;  but  he  saw  only  his 
horse's  ears,  the  ground  flying  under  him,  and  Gladiator's 
flanks,  and  white  feet  beating  the  ground  in  cadence,  and 
always  maintaining  the  same  distance  between  them.  Glad- 
iator flew  at  the  hurdle,  gave  a  whisk  of  his  well-cropped 
tail,  and,  without  having  touched  the  hurdle,  vanished  from 
Vron sky's  eyes. 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  a  voice. 

At  the  same  instant  the  planks  of  the  hurdle  flashed  be- 
fore his  eyes,  his  horse  leaped  without  breaking,  but  he 
heard  behind  him  a  loud  crash.  Frou  Frou,  excited  by  the 
sight  of  Gladiator,  had  leaped  too  soon,  and  had  struck  the 
hurdle  with  the  shoes  on  her  hind  feet :  her  gait  was  un- 
changvd  ;  and  Vronsky,  his  face  splashed  with  mud,  saw  that 


210  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

the  distance  had  not  increased  or  diminished,  as  he  caught  a 
glimpse  again  of  Gladiator's  crupper,  his  short  tail,  and  his 
swift  white  feet. 

Frou  Frou  seemed  to  have  the  same  thought  as  her  master, 
for  while  not  showing  excitement,  she  sensibly  increased  her 
speed,  and  gained  on  Makhotin  by  trying  to  take  the  inside 
track.  But  Makhotin  did  not  yield  this  advantage.  Vron- 
sky  was  wondering  if  they  could  not  pass  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  slope,  when  Frou  Frou,  as  though  divining  his  thought, 
changed  of  her  own  accord,  and  took  this  direction.  Her 
shoulder,  darkened  with  sweat,  closed  with  Gladiator's  flanks, 
and  for  several  seconds  they  flew  almost  side  by  side  ;  but  in 
order  not  to  take  the  outside  of  the  great  circle,  Vronsky 
urged  Frou  Frou  on  just  as  they  passed  the  divide,  and  on 
the  descent  he  managed  to  get  the  lead.  As  he  drew  by 
Makhotin  he  saw  his  mud-stained  face,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  he  smiled.  Though  he  was  behind,  he  was  still  there, 
within  a  step  ;  and  Vronsky  could  hear  the  regular  rhythm  of 
his  stallion's  feet,  and  the  hurried,  but  far  from  winded, 
breathing. 

The  next  two  obstacles,  the  ditch  and  the  hurdle,  were 
easily  passed,  but  Gladiator's  gallop  and  puffing  came  nearer. 
Vronsky  gave  Frou  Frou  the  spur,  and  perceived  with  a 
thrill  of  303*,  that  she  easily  accelerated  her  speed  :  the  sound 
of  Gladiator's  hoofs  grew  fainter. 

He  now  had  the  lead,  as  he  had  desired,  and  as  Cord  had 
recommended,  and  he  felt  sure  of  success.  His  emotion,  his 
joy,  his  affection  for  Frou  Frou,  were  all  on  the  increase.  He 
wanted  to  look  back,  but  he  did  not  dare  to  turn  around,  and 
he  did  his  best  to  calm  himself,  so  as  not  to  excite  his  horse. 
A  single  serious  obstacle  now  remained  to  be  passed,  —  the 
Irish  banquette, — which  if  cleared,  and  if  he  kept  his  head 
level,  would  give  him  the  victory  without  the  slightest  doubt. 
He  and  Frou  Frou  at  the  same  instant  caught  sight  of  the 
obstacle  from  afar,  and  both  horse  and  man  felt  a  moment 
of  hesitation.  Vronsky  noticed  the  hesitation  in  his  horse's 
ears  ;  and  he  was  just  lifting  his  whip  when  it  occurred  to 
him,  just  in  time,  that  she  knew  what  she  had  to  do.  The 
beautiful  creature  got  her  start,  and,  as  he  foresaw,  seeming 
to  take  advantage  of  the  impetus,  rose  from  the  ground,  and 
cleared  the  ditch  with  energy  that  took  her  far  beyond  ;  then 
fell  again  into  the  measure  of  her  pace  without  effort  and 
without  change. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  211 

"  Bravo,  Vronsky  !  "  cried  the  throng.  Pie  recognized  his 
friends  and  his  regiment,  who  were  standing  near  the  obsta- 
cle ;  and  he  distinguished  Yashvin's  voice,  though  he  did  not 
see  him 

tk  O  my  beauty!"  said  he  to  himself,  thinking  of  Frou 
Frou,  and  yet  listening  to  what  was  going  on  behind  him. 
"  He  has  cleared  it,"  he  said,  as  he  heard  Gladiator's  gallop 
behind  him. 

The  last  ditch,  full  of  water,  two  arshins  wide,  now  was 
left.  Vronsky  scarcely  heeded  it ;  but,  anxious  to  come  in 
far  ahead  of  the  others,  he  began  to  saw  on  the  reins,  and  to 
urge  on  the  horse  by  falling  into  her  motion,  and  leaning  far 
over  her  head.  He  felt  that  she  was  beginning  to  be  ex- 
hausted ;  her  neck  and  her  sides  were  wet ;  the  sweat  stood 
in  drops  on  her  throat,  her  head,  and  her  ears  ;  her  breath 
was  short  and  gasping.  Still,  he  was  sure  that  she  had  force 
enough  to  cover  the  two  hundred  sdzhens  that  laA"  between 
him  and  the  goal.  Only  because  he  felt  himself  so  near  the 
end,  and  by  the  extraordinary  smoothness  of  her  motion,  did 
Vronsky  realize  how  much  she  had  increased  her  speed.  The 
ditch  was  cleared,  how,  he  did  not  know.  She  cleared  it  like 
a  bird.  But  at  this  moment  Vronsky  felt  to  his  horror,  that, 
instead  of  taking  the  swing  of  his  horse,  he  had  made,  through 
some  inexplicable  reason,  a  wretchedly  and  unpardonably 
wrong  motion  in  falling  back  into  the  saddle.  His  position 
suddenly  changed,  and  he  felt  that  something  horrible  had 
happened.  He  could  not  give  himself  any  clear  idea  of  it ; 
but  there  flashed  by  him  a  roan  steed  with  white*feet,  and 
Makhotin  was  the  winner. 

One  of  Vronsky's  feet  touched  the  ground,  and  his  horse 
stumbled.  He  had  scarcely  time  to  clear  himself  when  the 
horse  fell  on  her  side,  panting  painfully,  and  making  vain 
efforts  with  her  delicate  foam-covered  neck  to  rise  again. 
But  she  lay  on  the  ground,  and  struggled  like  a  wounded 
bird :  by  the  movement  that  he  had  made  in  the  saddle,  he 
had  broken  her  back.  But  he  did  not  learn  his  fault  till 
afterwards.  Now  he  saw  only  one  thing,  that  Gladiator  was 
far  ahead,  and  that  he  was  there  alone,  standing  on  the  wet 
ground  before  his  defeated  Frou  Frou,  who  stretched  her 
head  towards  him,  and  looked  at  him  with  her  beautiful  eyes. 
Still  not  realizing  the  trouble,  he  pulled  on  the  reins.  The 
poor  animal  struggled  like  a  fish,  and  tried  to  get  up  on  her 
fore-legs ;  but,  unable  to  move  her  hind-quarters,  she  fell 


212  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

back  on  the  ground  all  of  a  tremble.  Vronskj*,  his  face  pale, 
and  distorted  with  rage,  kicked  her  in  the  belly  to  force  her 
to  rise  :  she  did  not  move,  but  gazed  at  her  master  with  one 
of  her  speaking  looks,  and  buried  her  nose  in  the  sand. 

"A — h!  what  have  I  done?"  cried  Vronsky,  taking  her 
head  in  his  hands.  '"  A — h  !  what  have  I  done?  "  And  the 
lost  race,  and  his  humiliating,  unpardonable  blunder,  and 
the  poor  ruined  horse  !  '•  A — h  !  what  have  I  done?  " 

The  surgeon  and  his  assistant,  his  comrades,  every  one,  ran 
to  his  aid  ;  but  to  his  great  mortification,  he  found  that  he  was 
safe  and  sound.  The  horse's  back  was  broken,  and  she  had 
to  be  killed.  Incapable  of  uttering  a  word,  Vronsky  answered 
nothing  to  all  the  questions  which  were  put  to  him  :  he  left 
the  race-course  without  picking  up  his  cap,  or  knowing 
whither  he  was  going.  He  was  in  despair.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  was  the  victim  of  a  misfortune  for  which 
there  was  no  remedy,  and  for  which  he  felt  that  he  himself 
was  the  only  one  to  blame. 

Yashvin  hastened  after  him  with  his  cap,  and  took  him 
back  to  his  quarters.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour  he  was 
calm  and  self-possessed  again,  but  this  race  was  for  a  long 
time  the  most  bitter  and  cruel  remembrance  of  his  life. 


XXVI. 

THE  relations  of  Aleks^i  Aleksandrovitch  seemed  to  un- 
dergo no  outward  change.  The  only  difference  consisted 
in  the  extra  amount  of  business  which  he  took  upon  his 
shoulders.  Early  in  the  spring  he  went  abroad,  as  he  usually 
did,  to  rest  himself  at  the  water-cure  after  the  fatigues  of 
the  winter.  He  returned  in  July,  and  resumed  his  duties  with 
new  energy.  His  wife  had  taken  up  her  summer  quarters  as 
usual  in  the  country,  not  far  from  Petersburg :  he  remained 
in  the  city.  Since  their  conversation  after  the  reception  at 
the  Princess  Tverska'ia's,  there  had  been  nothing  more  said 
between  them  of  jealousies  or  suspicions  ;  but  the  tone  of 
raillery  habitual  with  Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch  was  very  use- 
ful to  him  in  his  present  relations  with  his  wife.  His  cool- 
ness increased,  although  he  seemed  to  have  felt  only  a  slight 
ill  will  towards  her  after  the  conversation  of  that  night.  It 
was  only  a  cloud,  nothing  more.  He  seemed  to  sa}',  "You 
have  not  been  willing  to  have  an  understanding  with  me  ;  so 


ANNA   KAR&XINA.  213 

much  the  worse  for  you.  Now  you  must  make  the  first  ad- 
vances, and  I,  iu  my  turn,  will  not  listen  to  you."  And  he 
bore  himself  towards  his  wife,  in  thought  at  least,  very  much 
iu  the  way  of  a  man  who,  in  his  rage  at  not  being  able  to  put 
out  a  fire,  should  say,  tk  Burn,  then  !  So  much  the  worse  for 

you." 

This  man,  so  keen  and  shrewd  in  matters  of  public  con- 
cern, could  not  see  the  absurdity  of  his  conduct,  or,  if  he 
saw  it,  he  shut  his  eyes  to  the  wretchedness  of  his  situation. 
He  preferred  to  bury  the  affection  which  he  felt  for  his  wife 
and  child  deep  in  his  heart,  as  in  a  box,  sealed  and  secured. 
And  he  assumed  towards  the  child  a  singularly  cold  man- 
ner, speaking  to  him  always  with,  "•Ah,  young  man!"  in 
the  same  ironical  tone  that  he  used  towards  Anna. 

Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch  thought  and  declared  that  he  had 
never  had  so  many  important  affairs  as  this  year ;  but  he  did 
not  confess  that  he  had  himself  brought  them  about,  in  order 
to  keep  from  opening  his  secret  coffer  which  contained  his 
sentiments  towards  his  wife  and  his  family,  and  his  thoughts 
.concerning  them,  and  which  grew  more  and  more  troublesome 
the  longer  he  kept  them  out  of  sight. 

If  any  one  had  assumed  the  right  to  ask  him  what  he 
thought  about  his  wife's  conduct,  this  calm  and  pacific  Alek- 
s^i  Aleksandrovitch  would  have  flown  into  a  rage,  and  refused 
to  answer.  And  so  his  face  always  looked  severe  and  stern 
whenever  any  one  asked  for  news  of  Anna.  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch did  not  wish  to  think  about  his  wife's  conduct, 
and  therefore  he  did  not  think  about  her. 

The  Karenins'  summer  datcha  was  at  Peterhof ;  and  the 
Countess  Lidia  Ivauovna,  who  always  spent  her  summers 
in  the  same  neighborhood,  kept  up  friendly  relations  with 
Anna.  This  year  the  countess  had  not  cared  to  go  to  Peter- 
hof ;  and  as  she  was  talking  with  Kar^nin  one  day,  she  made 
some  allusion  to  the  impropriety  of  Anna's  intimacy  with 
Betsy  and  Vronsky.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  stopped  her 
harshl}',  and  declared  that  for  him  his  wife  was  above  sus- 
picion. From  that  day  he  avoided  the  countess,  shutting  his 
eyes  to  every  thing  he  did  not  care  to  perceive  ;  and  he  did  not 
perceive  that  many  people  in  society  were  beginning  to  give 
Anna  the  cold  shoulder  ;  and  he  did  not  question  the  motives 
of  her  desire  for  going  to  Tsarskoe.  where  Betsy  lived,  not 
far  from  Vron sky's  camp. 

He  did  not  allow  himself  to  think  about  this,  and  he  did 


214  ANNA   EARtiNINA. 

not  think  ;  but  in  spite  of  all,  without  any  proof  to  support 
him,  he  felt  that  he  was  deceived  ;  he  had  no  doubt  about 
it,  and  he  suffered  deeply.  How  many  times  in  the  course  of 
his  eight  years  of  married  life  had  he  not  asked  himself  as 
he  saw  shattered  homes,  "How  did  this  ever  happen?  Why 
don't  they  free  themselves  at  any  cost  from  such  an  absurd 
situation?"  And  now  the  evil  was  at  his  own  door;  but  he 
not  only  did  not  dream  of  extricating  himself  from  his  own 
trouble,  but  he  would  not  even  admit  it,  because  he  was  hor- 
rified at  the  terrible  and  unnatural  consequences  which  would 
result. 

Since  his  return  from  abroad,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  had 
gone  twice  to  visit  his  wife  in  the  country,  —  once  to  dine  with 
her,  the  other  time  to  pass  the  evening  with  some  guests,  but 
without  spending  the  night,  as  had  been  his  custom  in  previous 
years. 

The  day  of  the  races  was  extremely  engrossing  for  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  ;  but  when  in  the  morning  he  made  out  the 
programme  of  the  day,  he  decided  to  go  to  Peterhof  after 
an  early  dinner,  and  thence  to  the  hippodrome,  where  he 
expected  to  find  the  court,  and  where  it  was  proper  that  he 
should  be  seen.  For  the  sake  of  propriety  also,  he  resolved 
to  visit  his  wife  eveiy  week.  Moreover,  it  was  the  middle 
of  the  month,  and  it  was  his  custom  at  this  time  to  place  in 
her  hands  the  money  for  the  household  expenses. 

Using  all  his  will  power,  he  allowed  his  thoughts  about  his 
wife  to  take  this  direction ;  but  beyond  this  point  he  would 
not  permit  them  to  pass. 

His  morning  had  been  extremely  full  of  business.  The 
evening  before  he  had  received  a  pamphlet,  written  by  a  trav- 
eller who  had  won  great  renown  by  his  explorations  in  China, 
and  a  note  from  the  Countess  Lidia,  begging  him  to  receive 
this  traveller,  who  seemed  likely  to  Jbe,  on  many  accounts, 
a  useful  and  interesting  man.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  had 
not  been  able  to  get  through  the  pamphlet  in  the  evening, 
and  he  finished  it  after  breakfast.  Then  came  petitions, 
reports,  visits,  nominations,  removals,  the  distribution  of 
rewards,  pensions,  salaries,  correspondence,  all  that  'k  work- 
a-day  labor,"  as  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  called  it,  which 
consumes  so  much  time. 

Then  came  his  private  business,  a  visit  from  his  physician 
and  a  call  from  his  steward.  The  latter  was  not  very  long : 
he  only  brought  the  money,  and  a  brief  report  on  the  condi- 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  215 

tion  of  his  affairs,  which  this  year  was  not  very  brilliant;  the 
expenses  had  been  heavy,  and  there  was  a  deficit. 

The  doctor,  on  the  other  hand,  a  famous  physician,  and  a 
good  friend  of  Karenin's,  took  considerable  time.  He  had 
come  without  being  summoned  :  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 
was  astonished  at  his  visit,  and  at  the  scrupulous  care  with 
which  he  plied  him  with  questions,  and  sounded  his  lungs  ; 
he  was  not  aware  that  his  friend,  the  Countess  Lidia,  troubled 
by  his  abnormal  condition,  had  begged  the  doctor  to  visit 
him,  and  give  him  a  thorough  examination. 

"  Do  it  for  my  sake,"  the  countess  said. 

"I  will  do  it  for  the  sake  of  Russia,  countess,"  replied 
the  doctor. 

"  Admirable  man  !  "  cried  the  countess. 

The  doctor  was  very  much  disturbed  at  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch's  state.  His  liver  was  congested,  his  digestion  was 
bad  :  the  waters  had  done  him  no  good.  He  ordered  more 
physical  exercise,  less  mental  strain,  and,  above  all,  freedom 
from  vexation  of  spirit ;  but  this  was  as  easy  as  not  to 
breathe. 

The  doctor  departed,  leaving  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  with 
the  disagreeable  impression  that  something  was  very  wrong 
with  him,  and  that  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

On  the  way  out,  the  doctor  met  on  Karenin's  steps  his  old 
acquaintance,  Sliudin,  who  was  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 's 
chief  secretary.  They  had  been  in  the  university  together ; 
but,  though  they  rarely  met,  they  were  still  excellent  friends. 
The  doctor  would  scarcely  have  spoken  to  others  with  the 
same  freedom  that  he  used  towards  Sliudin. 

"  How  glad  I  am  that  you  have  been  to  see  him  !  He  is 
not  well,  and  it  seems  to  me —  Nu!  what  is  it?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  said  the  doctor,  beckoning  to  his  coach- 
man to  drive  up  to  the  door.  "  This  is  what  I  say  ;  "  and, 
taking  with  his  white  hand  the  fingers  of  his  dogskin  gloves, 
he  stretched  it  out:  "try  to  break  a  tough  cord,  and  it's 
hard  work  ;  but  keep  it  stretched  out  to  its  utmost  tension, 
and  touch  it  with  your  finger,  it  breaks.  Now,  with  his 
too  sedentary  life,  and  his  too  conscientious  labor,  he  is 
strained  to  the  utmost  limit ;  and  besides,  there  is  a  violent 
pressure  in  another  direction,"  concluded  the  doctor,  raising 
his  eyebrows  with  a  significant  expression.  "  Shall  you 
be  at  the  races?"  he  added  as  he  got  into  his  carriage. 
"•Yes,  yes,  certainly ;  but  it  takes  too  much  time,"  he  said 


216  ANNA   KARtiNlNA. 

in  reply  to  something  that  Sliudin  said,  and  which  he  did 
not  catch. 

Immediately  after  the  doctor  had  gone,  the  celebrated 
traveller  came  ;  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  aided  by  the 
pamphlet  which  he  had  just  read,  and  by  some  previous  in- 
formation which  he  had  on  the  subject,  astonished  his  visitor 
by  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  and  the  breadth  of  his  views. 
At  the  same  time  the  Imperial  Predvoditel  (marshal)  was 
announced,  who  had  come  to  Petersburg  on  business,  and 
wanted  to  talk  with  him.  Then  he  was  obliged  to  settle  the 
routine  business  with  his  chief  secretary,  and  finally  to  make 
an  important  and  necessary  call  upon  an  official. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  had  only  time  to  get  back  to  his 
five  o'clock  dinner  with  Sliudin,  whom  he  invited  to  join  him 
in  his  visit  to  the  country  and  to  the  races. 

Without  knowing  exactly  why,  he  alwa3Ts  endeavored  lately 
to  have  a  third  person  present  when  he  had  an  interview  with 
his  wife. 

XXVII. 

ANNA  was  in  her  room,  standing  before  a  mirror,  and  fas- 
tening a  final  bow  to  her  dress,  with  Anuushka's  aid,  when 
the  noise  of  wheels  on  the  gravel  driveway  was  heard. 

14 It  is  too  early  for  Betsy,"  she  thought;  and,  looking  out 
of  the  window,  she  saw  a  carriage,  and  in  the  carriage  the 
black  hat  and  well-known  ears  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch. 

"How  provoking!  Can  he  have  come  for  the  night?" 
she  thought ;  and  without  taking  time  for  a  moment  of  re- 
flection, and  under  the  control  of  the  spirit  of  falsehood, 
which  now  ruled  her,  she  went  down-stairs,  radiant  with  gay- 
ety,  to  receive  her  husband,  and  spoke  with  him,  not  knowing 
what  she  said. 

"  Ah  !  how  good  of  you  !  "  said  she,  extending  her  hand 
to  Kare"uin,  while  she  smiled  upon  Sliudin  as  a  household 
friend. 

"You've  come  for  the  night,  I  hope?"  were  her  first 
words,  inspired  by  the  demon  of  untruth;  "and  now  we 
will  go  to  the  races  together.  But  how  sorry  I  am !  I  am 
engaged  to  go  with  Betsy,  who  is  coming  for  me." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  frowned  slightly  at  the  name  of 
Betsy. 

"  Oh  !  I  will  not  separate  the  inseparables,"  said  he,  in  his 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  217 

light,  jesting  tone.  "I  will  walk  with  Mikhail  Vasilye"vitch. 
The  doctor  advised  me  to  take  exercise  :  I  will  join  the  pe- 
destrians, and  imagine  I  am  still  at  the  Spa." 

"  There  is  no  hurry,"  said  Anna.  "  Will  you  have  some 
tea?" 

She  rang. 

"  Serve  the  tea,  and  tell  Serozha  that  AlekseM  Aleksandro- 
vitch  has  come.  —  Nu  !  how  is  your  health  ?  Mikhail  Vas- 
ilye"vitch.  you  have  not  been  out  to  see  us  before  :  look  !  how 
beautifully  I  have  arranged  the  balcony  !  "  said  she,  looking 
now  at  her  husband,  now  at  her  guest. 

She  spoke  very  simply  and  naturally,  but  too  fast  and  too 
fluently.  She  herself  felt  that  it  was  so,  especially  when 
she  caught  Mikhai'l  Vasilyevitch  looking  at  her  with  curiosity. 
He  got  up  and  went  out  on  the  terrace,  and  she  sat  down 
beside  her  husband. 

"  You  do  not  look  at  all  well,"  said  she. 

"Oh,  yes  !  The  doctor  came  this  morning,  and  wasted  an 
hour  of  my  time.  I  am  convinced  that  some  one  of  my 
friends  sent  him.  How  precious  my  health  "  — 

"  No,  what  did  he  say?  " 

And  she  questioned  him  about  his  health  and  his  labors, 
advising  him  to  take  rest,  and  to  come  out  into  the  country, 
where  she  was.  It  was  all  said  with  gayety  and  animation, 
and  with  brilliant  light  in  her  eyes,  but  Aleks6i  Aleksandro- 
vitch  attached  no  special  importance  to  her  manner :  he 
heard  only  her  words,  and  took  them  in  their  literal  signi- 
fication, replying  simply,  though  rather  ironically.  The  con- 
versation had  no  special  weight,  yet  Anna  afterwards  could 
not  remember  it  without  genuine  pain. 

Serozha  came  in,  accompanied  by  his  governess.  If  Alek- 
se"i  Aleksandrovitch  had  allowed  himself  to  notice,  he  would 
have  been  struck  by  the  timid  manner  in  which  the  lad  looked 
at  his  parents,  —  at  his  father  first,  and  then  at  his  mother. 
But  he  was  unwilling  to  see  any  thing,  and  he  saw  nothing. 

"  Ah,  young  man  !  He  has  grown.  Indeed,  he  is  getting 
to  be  a  great  fellow  !  Good-morning,  young  man  !  " 

And  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  the  puzzled  child.  Se- 
rozha had  always  been  a  little  afraid  of  his  father ;  but  now, 
since  his  father  had  begun  to  call  him  young  man,  and  since 
he  had  begun  to  rack  his  brains  to  discover  whether  Vronsky 
were  a  friend  or  an  enemy,  he  was  becoming  more  tirnid  than 
ever.  He  turned  towards  his  mother,  as  though  for  pro- 


218  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

tection  :  he  felt  at  ease  only  when  with  her.  Meantime 
Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh  laid  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder, 
and  asked  his  governess  about  him  ;  but  the  child  was  so 
scared  that  Anna  saw  he  was  going  to  cry.  She  jumped  up, 
raised  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's  hand  to  let  the  boy  go,  and 
kissed  him,  and  took  him  out  on  the  terrace.  Then  she  came 
back  to  her  husband  again. 

"It  is  getting  late,"  she  said,  consulting  her  watch. 
"  Why  doesn't  Betsy  come?  " 

"Da!"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh,  getting  up,  and 
cracking  the  joints  of  his  fingers.  "  I  came  also  to  bring 
you  some  money,  for  nightingales  don't  live  on  songs,"  said 
he.  "•  You  need  it,  I  have  no  doubt." 

"  No,  I  don't  need  it  —  yes  —  I  do,"  said  she,  not  looking 
at  him.  "  Da!  3-011  will  come  back  after  the  races?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  replied  Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh.  "  But  here 
is  the  glory  of  Peterhof,  the  Princess  Tverskaia,"  he  added, 
looking  through  the  window,  and  seeing  a  magnificent  Eng- 
lish carriage  drawing  up  to  the  entrance:  "  what  elegance ! 
splendid  !  nu!  let  us  go  too  !  " 

The  princess  did  not  leave  her  carriage  :  her  tiger,  in  top- 
boots  and  livery,  and  wearing  a  tall  hat,  leaped  to  the  steps. 

"  I  am  going  :  good-by,"  said  Anna,  kissing  her  son,  and 
giving  her  hand  to  Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh.  "  It  was  very 
kind  of  you  to  come." 

Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh  kissed  her  hand. 

"Nu!  till  we  meet  again!  You  will  come  back  to  tea? 
Excellent!  "  she  said,  as  she  went  down  the  steps,  seeming 
radiant  and  happy.  But  hardly  had  she  passed  from  his 
sight  before  she  shivered  with  repugnance  as  she  felt  on  her 
hand  the  place  where  his  lips  had  kissed  it. 


XXVIII. 

WHEN  Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh  reached  the  race-course, 
Anna  was  already  in  her  place  beside  Betsy,  in  the  grand 
pavilion,  where  the  high  society  was  gathered  in  a  brilliant 
throng.  She  saw  her  husband  from  a  distance,  and  invol- 
untarily followed  him  as  he  came  along.  She  saw  him 
approach  the  pavilion,  replying  with  rather  haughty  conde- 
scension to  the  salutations,  which  were  meant  to  draw  his 
attention ;  exchanging  careless  greetings  with  his  equals ; 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  219 

watching  to  catch  the  glances  of  the  great  ones  of  the  earth, 
to  whom  he  paid  his  respects  by  removing  his  Jarge,  round 
hat,  which  came  down  to  the  top  of  his  ears.  Anna  knew 
all  these  mannerisms  of  salutation,  and  they  were  all  equally 
distasteful  to  her.  "  Nothing  but  ambition  ;  craze  for  suc- 
cess ;  it  is  all  that  his  heart  contains,"  she  thought :  "  as  to 
his  lofty  views,  his  love  for  civilization,  his  religion,  they 
are  only  means  whereb}'  to  gain  an  end ;  that  is  all." 

It  was  evident,  from  the  glances  that  Karenin  cast  on  the 
pavilion,  that  he  was  seeking  vainly  for  his  wife  in  the  sea 
of  muslin,  ribbons,  feathers,  flowers,  and  sunshades.  Anna 
knew  that  he  was  looking  for  her,  but  she  pretended  not  to 
see  him. 

"Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch,"  cried  the  Princess  Betsy, 
"  don't  3-ou  see  your  wife?  here  she  is  !  " 

He  looked  up  with  his  icy  smile.  "  Every  thing  is  so 
brilliant  here,  that  it  blinds  the  eyes,"  he  replied,  as  he 
came  up  the  pavilion. 

He  smiled  at  Anna,  as  it  is  a  husband's  duty  to  do  when 
he  has  only  just  left  his  wife,  bowed  to  Betsy  and  his  other 
acquaintances,  showing  himself  gallant  towards  the  ladies, 
polite  towards  the  men. 

A  general,  famous  for  his  wit  and  his  knowledge,  was  near 
by;  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  joined  him,  and  engaged  in 
conversation.  It  was  between  the  two  races  :  the  general 
attacked  such  kinds  of  amusement,  Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch 
defended  them. 

Anna  heard  his  slow,  shrill  voice,  and  lost  none  of  the 
words  which  her  husband  spoke,  and  which  rang  unpleasantly 
in  her  ear.  When  the  hurdle-race  began,  she  leaned  forward, 
not  letting  Vronsky  out  of  her  sight  for  an  instant.  She  saw 
him  approach  his  horse,  then  mount  it :  her  husband's  voice 
kept  floating  up  to  her.  and  was  odious  to  her.  She  felt  for 
Vronsky  ;  but  she  suffered  painfully  at  the  sound  of  this 
voice,  every  intonation  of  which  she  knew. 

"I  am  a  wicked  woman,  a  lost  woman,"  she  thought; 
"  but  I  hate  falsehood,  I  cannot  endure  lies  ;  but  he  [meaning 
her  husband]  lives  by  them  —  liar  !  He  knows  all,  he  sees 
every  thing :  how  much  feeling  has  he,  if  he  can  go  on 
speaking  with  such  calmness?  I  should  have  some  respect 
for  him  if  he  killed  me,  if  he  killed  Vronsky.  But  no ! 
what  he  prefers  above  every  thing  is  falsehood  and  conven- 
tionality." 


220  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

Anna  did  not  exactly  know  what  she  would  have  liked  her 
husband  to*  be,  and  she  did  not  understand  that  the  very 
volubility  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  which  irritated  her  so, 
was  only  the  expression  of  his  interior  agitation  :  he  felt  the 
need  of  making  some  intellectual  exertion,  just  as  a  child 
stretches  its  limbs  when  it  suffers  with  pain.  He  wanted  to 
become  oblivious  to  the  thoughts  that  arose  in  his  mind  at 
the  sight  of  Anna  and  Vronsky,  whose  name  he  heard  on 
all  sides.  He  disguised  his  mental  disturbance  b}-  talking. 
"Danger,"  he  said,  "is  an  indispensable  condition  in  these 
races  of  cavalry  officers.  If  England  can  show  in  her  history 
glorious  deeds  of  arms  performed  by  her  cavalry,  she  owes  it 
solely  to  the  historic  development  of  vigor  in  her  people  and 
her  horses.  Sport,  in  my  opinion,  has  a  deep  significance  ; 
and,  as  usual,  we  take  it  only  in  its  superficial  aspect." 

"Not  superficial,"  said  the  Princess  Tverskaia :  "they 
say  that  one  of  the  officers  has  broken  two  ribs." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  smiled  on  the  speaker  with  a 
cold  expression,  which  showed  only  his  teeth. 

"  I  admit,  princess,  that  in  this  case  it  is  not  superficial, 
but  serious.  But  that  is  not  the  point ;  "  and  he  turned  again 
to  the  general,  and  resumed  his  dignified  discourse. 

"  You  must  not  forget  that  those  who  take  part  are  mili- 
tary men ;  that  this  career  is  their  choice,  and  that  every 
vocation  has  its  reverse  side  of  the  medal.  This  belongs  to 
the  calling  of  war.  Such  sport  as  boxing-matches  and 
Spanish  bull-fights  are  indications  of  barbarism,  but  special- 
ized sport  is  a  sign  of  development." 

"  No,  I  won't  come  another  time,"  the  Princess  Betsey 
was  saying :  "  it  is  too  exciting  for  me  ;  don't  you  think  so, 
Anna?" 

"  It  is  exciting,  but  it  is  fascinating,"  said  another  lady: 
"if  I  had  been  a  Roman,  I  should  never  have  left  the 
circus." 

Anna  did  not  speak,  but  was  gazing  intently  through  her 
glass. 

At  this  moment  a  tall  general  came  across  the  pavilion. 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  breaking  off  his  discourse  abruptly, 
arose  with  dignity,  and  made  a  low  bow. 

"  Aren't  you  racing?"  asked  the  general  jestingly. 

"My  race  is  a  far  more  difficult  one,"  replied  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  respectfully  ;  and  though  this  answer  was 
not  remarkable  for  its  sense,  the  military  man  seemed  to 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  221 

think  that  he  had  received  a  witty  repartee  from  a  witty  man, 
and  appreciated  la  pointe  cle  la  sauce. 

"There  are  two  sides  to  the  question,"  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch  said,  resuming,  — "that  of  the  spectator,  and  that  of 
the  participant ;  and  1  confess  that  a  love  for  such  spectacles 
is  a  genuine  sign  of  inferiority  in  the  people,  but"  — 

"  Princess,  a  wager,"  cried  the  voice  of  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  from  below,  addressing  Betsy.  "  Which  side  will  you 
take?" 

"  Anna  and  I  bet  on  Prince  Kuzoflef,"  replied  Betsy. 

"  I  am  for  Vronsky.     A  pair  of  gloves." 

"Good!" 

"How  jolly!  isn't  it?" 

Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch  stopped  speaking  while  this  con- 
versation was  going  on  around  him,  and  then  he  began  anew. 

"  I  confess,  manly  games  "  — 

At  this  instant  the  signal  of  departure  was  heard,  and  all 
conversation  ceased.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  also  ceased 
speaking ;  but  while  every  one  stood  up  so  as  to  look  at  the 
re/id,  he,  not  feeling  interested  in  the  race,  instead  of 
watching  the  riders,  looked  around  the  assembly  with  weary 
eyes.  His  gaze  fell  upon  his  wife. 

Her  face  was  pale  and  stern.  Nothing  existed  for  her 
beyond  the  one  person  whom  she  was  watching  Her  hands 
convulsively  clutched  her  fan  :  she  held  her  breath.  Kar^nin 
looked  around  at  the  faces  of  other  women. 

"There  is  another  lady  very  much  moved,  and  still 
another  just  the  same:  it  is  very  natural,"  said  Aleksei 
Aleksaudrovitch  to  himself.  He  did  not  wish  to  look  at  her  ; 
but  his  gaze  was  irresistibly  drawn  to  her  face,  whereon  he 
read  only  too  plainly,  and  with  feelings  of  horror,  all  that 
he  had  tried  to  ignore. 

When  Kuzoflef  fell,  the  excitement  was  general ;  but  Alek- 
s6i  Aleksandrovitch  saw  clearly  by  Anna's  pale,  triumphant 
face,  that  he  who  fell  was  not  the  one  on  whom  her  gaze  was 
riveted.  When,  after  Makhotin  and  Vronsky  crossed  the 
great  hurdle,  another  officer  was  thrown  head  first,  and  was 
picked  up  for  dead,  a  shudder  of  horror  ran  through  the 
assembly,  but  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  perceived  that  Anna 
noticed  nothing,  and  did  not  know  what  the  people  were 
talking  about.  The  more  he  studied  her  face,  the  greater 
became  his  shame.  Absorbed  as  she  was  in  her  interest  in 
Vronsky's  course,  Anna  was  conscious  that  her  husband's 


222  ANNA  KAEfiNINA. 


cold  e^-es  were  on  her  ;  and  she  turned  around  towards  him 
for  an  instant  questioningly,  and  with  a  slight  frown.  "  Ach  ! 
I  don't  care,"  she  seemed  to  say,  as  she  turned  her  glass  to 
the  race.  She  did  not  look  at  him  again. 

The  race  was  disastrous  :  out  of  the  seventeen  riders,  more 
than  half  were  thrown.  Towards  the  end,  the  excitement 
became  intense,  the  more  because  the  Emperor  showed  dis- 
satisfaction. 

XXIX. 

ALL  were  expressing  their  dissatisfaction,  and  the  phrase 
was  going  the  rounds,  "Now  only  the  lions  are  left  in  the 
arena;"  and  the  terror  caused  by  Vronsky's  fall  was  so 
universal,  that  Anna's  cry  of  horror  caused  no  astonishment. 
But,  unfortunately,  her  face  continued  to  show  more  lively 
symptoms  of  her  anxiety  than  was  proper.  She  lost  her 
presence  of  mind.  She  tried  to  escape,  like  a  bird  caught  in 
a  snare.  She  struggled  to  arise,  and  to  get  away  ;  and  she 
cried  to  Betsy,  "  Come,  let  us  go,  let  us  go  !  " 

But  Betsy  did  not  hear  her.  She  was  leaning  over,  en- 
gaged in  lively  conversation  with  a  general  who  had  just 
entered  the  pavilion. 

Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  hastened  to  his  wife,  and  offered 
her  his  arm. 

"  Come,  if  it  is  your  wish  to  go,"  said  he  in  French  ;  but 
Anna  did  not  heed  him.  She  was  listening  eagerly  to  the 
general's  words. 

"  He  has  broken  his  leg,  they  say  ;  but  this  is  not  at  all 
likely,"  said  the  general. 

Anna  did  not  look  at  her  husband  ;  but,  taking  her  glass, 
she  gazed  at  the  place  where  Vronsky  had  fallen.  It  was  so 
distant,  and  the  crowd  was  so  dense,  that  she  could  not  make 
any  thing  out  of  it.  She  dropped  her  lorgnette,  and  was  try- 
ing to  go  when  an  officer  came  galloping  up  to  make  some 
report  to  the  Emperor.  Anna  leaned  forward,  and  listened. 

"  Stiva  !  Stiva  !  "  she  cried  to  her  brother. 

He  did  not  hear  her. 

She  again  made  an  effort  to  leave  the  pavilion. 

"  I  again  offer  you  my  arm,  if  you  wish  to  go,"  repeated 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  touching  her  hand. 

Anna  drew  back  from  him  with  aversion,  and  replied  with- 
out looking  at  him,  "No,  no  :  leave  me  ;  I  am  going  to  stay." 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  223 

At  this  moment  she  saw  an  officer  riding  at  full  speed  across 
the  race-course  from  the  place  of  the  accident  towards  the 
pavilion.  Betsy  beckoned  to  him  with  her  handkerchief  ;  and 
the  officer  came  up,  and  said  that  the  rider  was  uninjured,  but 
the  horse  had  broken  his  back. 

At  this  news,  Anna  quickly  sat  down,  and  hid  her  face  be- 
hind her  fan.  Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch  noticed  not  only  that 
she  was  weeping,  but  that  she  could  not  restrain  the  sobs 
that  heaved  her  bosom.  He  stepped  in  front  of  her  to  shield 
her  from  the  public  gaze,  and  give  her  a  chance  to  regain  her 
self-command. 

"  For  the  third  time,  I  offer  you  my  arm,"  said  he,  turn- 
ing to  her  at  the  end  of  a  few  moments. 

Anna  looked  at  him,  not  knowing  what  to  say.  Betsy  came 
to  her  aid. 

"  No,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch.  I  brought  Anna,  and  I 
will  be  responsible  for  bringing  her  home." 

"  Excuse  me,  princess,"  he  replied  politely,  and  looking 
her  fuir  in  the  face  ;  "  but  I  see  that  she  is  not  well  here,  and 
I  wish  her  to  go  home  with  me." 

Anna  obeyed  in  terror,  and,  rising  hastily,  took  her  hus- 
band's arm. 

"  I  will  send  to  inquire  for  him,  and  let  you  know,"  whis- 
pered Betsy. 

As  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  left  the  pavilion  with  his  wife, 
he  spoke  in  his  ordinary  manner  to  all  whom  he  met,  and 
Anna  was  forced  to  listen  and  to  reply  as  usual ;  but  she  was 
not  herself,  and  as  in  a  dream  she  passed  along  on  her  hus- 
band's arm. 

"Is  he  killed,  or  not?  Can  it  be  true?  "Will  he  come? 
Shall  I  see  him  to-day?  "  she  asked  herself. 

In  silence  she  got  into  the  carriage,  and  she  sat  in  silence 
while  they  left  the  throng  of  vehicles.  In  spite  of  all  that 
he  had  seen,  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch  did  not  allow  himself 
to  think  of  his  wife's  present  attitude.  He  saw  only  the 
external  signs.  He  saw  that  her  deportment  had  been  im- 
proper, and  he  felt  obliged  to  speak  to  her  about  it.  But  it 
was  very  difficult  to  say  this  only,  and  not  go  farther.  He 
opened  his  mouth  to  speak  ;  but,  against  his  will,  he  said 
something  absolutely  different. 

"  How  strange  that  we  all  like  to  see  these  cruel  specta- 
cles !  I  notice  ' '  — 

"What?    I  did  not  understand  you,"  said  Anna  scornfully. 


224  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

He  was  wounded,  and  instantl}-  began  to  sa}r  what  was  on 
his  mind  :  — 

"  I  am  obliged  to  tell  you,"  he  began  — 

"Now,"  thought  Anna,  "comes  the  explanation;"  and 
she  was  frightened. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  tell  you*  that  your  conduct  to-day  has 
been  extremely  improper,"  said  he  iu  French. 

"  Wherein  has  my  conduct  been  improper?  "  she  demanded 
angril}',  raising  her  head  quickly,  and  looking  him  straight 
in  the  eyes,  no  longer  hiding  her  feelings  under  a  mask  of 
gaj-ety,  but  putting  on  a  bold  front,  which,  with  difficulty, 
she  maintained  under  her  fears. 

"Be  careful,"  said  he,  pointing  to  the  open  window  be- 
hind the  coachman's  back. 

He  leaned  forward  to  raise  it. 

"  What  impropriety  did  you  remark?  "  she  demanded. 

"The  despair  which  you  took  no  pains  to  conceal  when 
one  of  the  riders  was  thrown." 

He  awaited  her  answer ;  but  she  said  nothing,  and  looked 
straight  ahead. 

"  I  have  alread}*  requested  you  so  to  behave  when  in  so- 
ciety that  evil  tongues  cannot  find  any  thing  to  say  against 
you.  There  was  a  time  when  I  spoke  of  your  inner  feelings  : 
I  now  say  nothing  about  them.  Now  I  speak  only  of  out- 
ward appearances.  You  have  behaved  improperly,  and  I 
would  ask  you  not  to  let  this  happen  again." 

She  heard  only  half  of  his  words  ;  she  felt  overwhelmed 
with  fear ;  and  she  thought  only  of  Vronsky,  and  whether  he 
was  killed.  Was  it  he  who  was  meant  when  they  said  the 
rider  was  safe,  but  the  horse  had  broken  his  back? 

When  Aleks^i  Aleksandrovitch  ceased  speaking,  she  looked 
at  him  with  an  ironical  smile,  and  answered  not  a  word,  be- 
cause she  had  not  noticed  what  he  said.  At  first  he  had 
spoken  boldly  ;  but  as  he  saw  clearly  what  he  was  speaking 
about,  the  terror  which  possessed  her  seized  him.  At  first 
her  smile  led  him  into  a  strange  mistake.  "  She  is  amused  at 
my  suspicions !  She  is  going  to  tell  me  now  that  they  are 
groundless  ;  that  this  is  absurd. ' ' 

Such  an  answer  he  longed  to  hear :  he  was  so  afraid  that 
his  suspicions  would  be  confirmed,  that  he  was  ready  to  be- 
lieve any  thing  that  she  might  say.  But  the  expression  of 
her  gloomy  and  frightened  face  now  allowed  him  no  further 
chance  of  falsehood. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  225 

"  Possibly  I  am  mistaken,"  said  he  :  "  in  that  case,  I  beg 
you  to  forgive  me." 

"  No,  }'ou  are  not  mistaken,"  she  replied,  with  measured 
words,  casting  a  look  of  despair  on  her  husband's  icy  face. 
"You  are  not  mistaken:  I  was  in  despair,  and  I  could  not 
help  being.  I  hear  you,  but  I  am  thinking  only  of  him.  I 
love  him,  I  have  been  false  to  you.  I  cannot  endure  you,  I 
fear  you,  I  hate  you  !  Do  with  me  what  you  please  !  "  And, 
throwing  herself  into  the  bottom  of  the  carriage,  she  cov- 
ered her  face  with  her  hands,  and  burst  into  tears. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  did  not  move,  or  turn  his  face  ; 
but  the  solemn  expression  of  his  features  suddenly  assumed 
a  deathlike  rigidity,  which  remained  unchanged  throughout 
the  drive  home.  As  they  reached  the  house,  he  turned  his 
head  to  her,  and  said,  — 

"So!  but  I  insist  upon  the  preservation  of  appearances 
from  this  time  forth  until  I  decide  upon  the  measures  which 
I  shall  take,  "  —  and  here  his  voice  trembled,  —  "  and  which 
will  be  communicated  to  you  ;  and  this  I  demand  for  the 
sake  of  preserving  my  honor." 

He  stepped  out  of  the  carriage,  and  assisted  Anna  out. 
Then,  in  presence  of  the  domesties,  he  shook  hands  with 
her,  re-entered  the  carriage,  and  returned  to  Petersburg. 

He  had  just  gone,  when  a  messenger  from  Betsy  brought 
a  note  to  Anna  :  —  * 

"  I  sent  to  Aleksel  Vronsky  to  learn  about  his  health. 
He  writes  me  that  he  is  safe  and  sound,  but  in  despair." 

"  Then  he  will  come,"  she  thought.  "  How  well  I  did  to 
tell  him  all!" 

She  looked  at  her  watch :  scarcely  three  hours  had  passed 
since  she  saw  him,  but  the  memory  of  their  interview  made 
her  heart  beat. 

"  Bozhe  mo'i!  how  light  it  is  !  It  is  terrible  !  but  I  love  to 
see  his  face,  and  I  love  this  fantastic  light.  .  .  .  My  hus- 
band !  Ach !  da!  .  .  .  nu I  and  thank  God  it  is  all  over  with 
him!" 

XXX. 

As  in  all  places  where  human  beings  congregate,  so  in  the 
little  German  village  where  the  Shcherbatskys  went  to  take 
the  waters,  there  is  formed  a  sort  of  social  crystallization 
which  puts  every  one  in  exact  and  unchangeable  place.  Just 


226  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

as  a  drop  of  water  exposed  to  the  cold  alwa}Ts  and  invaria- 
bly takes  a  certain  crystalline  form,  so  each  new  individual 
coming  to  the  Spa  finds  himself  invariably  fixed  in  the  social 
scale. 

"  Fiirst  Schtschbatzky,  sammt  Gemahlin  und  Tochter " 
(Prince  Sheherbatsky,  wife  and  daughter),  both  by  the  apart- 
ments that  they  occupied,  and  by  their  name  and  the  acquaint- 
ances that  they  made,  immediately  crystallized  into  the  exact 
place  that  was  predestined  to  receive  them. 

The  business  of  stratification  was  much  more  energetic 
this  year  than  usual,  from  the  fact  that  a  genuine  German 
Flirstin  (princess)  honored  the  waters  with  her  presence. 
The  princess  felt  called  upon  to  present  her  daughter,  and 
the  ceremony  took  place  two  days  after  their  arrival.  Kitty, 
dressed  in  a  very  simple  toilet,  that  is  to  say,  a  very  elegant 
Parisian  costume,  made  a  deep  and  graceful  courtesy.  The 
Filrstin  said,  — 

"  I  hope  that  the  roses  will  soon  bloom  again  in  this  pretty 
little  face." 

And  immediately  the  Sheherbatsky  family  found  them- 
selves in  the  fixed  and  definite  walk  in  life  from  which  it 
was  impossible  to  descend.  They  made  the  acquaintance  of 
an  English  Lady,  of  a  German  Grafin,  and  her  son  who  had 
been  wounded  in  the  late  war,  of  a  scientific  man  from  Swe- 
den, and  of  a  M.  Canut  and  his  sister.* 

But  for  the  most  part,  the  Shcherbatskys  spontaneously 
formed  social  relations  among  the  people  "from  Moscow, 
among  them  Marya  Evgenyevna  Rtishchevaia  and  her  daugh- 
ter, whom  Kitty  did  not  like  because  she  likewise  was  ill  on 
account  of  a  love-affair  going  wrong  ;  and  a  colonel  whom  she 
always  had  seen  in  society,  and  known  by  his  uniform  and  his 
epaulets,  and  who  now  with  his  little  eyes,  and  his  bare  neck 
and  flowery  cravats,  seemed  to  Kitty  supremely  ridiculous^ 
and  the  more  unendurable  because  she  could  not  get  rid  of 
him.  When  they  were  all  established,  it  became  very  tire- 
some to  Kitty,  the  more  as  her  father  had  gone  to  Carlsbad, 
and  she  was  left  alone  with  her  mother.  She  could  not  inter- 
est herself  in  her  old  acquaintances,  because  she  knew  that 
she  should  not  find  any  thing  novel  in  them  ;  and  so  her  prin- 
cipal amusement  was  in  studying  the  people  whom  she  had 
never  seen  before.  It  was  in  accordance  with  Kitty's  nature 
to  see  the  best  side  of  people,  especially  of  strangers  ;  and 
now  her  remarks  on  the  characters  and  scenes  that  she 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  227 

amused  herself  in  studying,  were  colored  with  a  good-na- 
tured exaggeration  of  their  peculiarities. 

Of  all  these  people,  there  was  one  in  whom  she  took  a 
most  lively  interest :  it  was  a  young  girl  who  had  come  to 
the  baths  with  a  Russian  lady  named  Madame  Stahl.  Madame 
Stahl,  it  was  said,  belonged  to  the  high  nobility  ;  but  she  was 
unable  to  walk,  and  was  seen  only  occasionally  going  in  a 
wheeled-chair  to  take  the  baths.  But  it  was  rather  from 
pride  than  illness,  as  the  princess  judged,  that  she  failed  to 
make  any  acquaintances  among  the  Russians.  The  young 
girl  was  her  nurse  ;  and,  as  Kitty  discovered,  she  frequently 
went  to  those  who  were  seriously  ill,  —  and  there  were  many 
at  the  baths,  —  and  with  the  same  natural,  unaffected  zeal, 
took  care  of  them. 

This  young  Russian  girl,  Kitty  discovered,  was  no  relation 
to  Madame  Stahl,  nor  even  a  hired  companion.  Madame 
Stahl  called  her  simply  Varenka,  but  her  friends  called  her 
"Mademoiselle  Varenka."  Kitty  not  only  found  it  ex- 
tremely interesting  to  study  the  relations  between  this  young 
girl  and  Madame  Stahl,  and  other  unknown  persons,  but  an 
irresistible  sympathy  drew  her  towards  Mademoiselle  Vareuka ; 
and,  when  their  eyes  met,  she  imagined  that  it  pleased  her 
also. 

Mademoiselle  Varenka,  though  still  quite  young,  seemed  to 
lack  youthfulness  :  her  age  might  be  guessed  as  either  nine- 
teen or  thirty.  In  spite  of  the  lack  of  color  in  her  face, 
she  was  rather  good-looking :  if,  on  analysis,  her  head  had 
not  been  rather  large,  and  her  figure  too  slight,  she  would 
have  been  considered  handsome  ;  but  she  was  not  one  to 
please  men ;  she  made  one  think  of  a  beautiful  flower, 
which,  though  still  preserving  its  petals,  was  faded  and 
without  perfume. 

Varenka  seemed  always  absorbed  in  some  important  duty, 
and  never  at  leisure  to  amuse  herself  with  idle  nothings  ; 
and  the  example  of  this  busy  life  made  Kitty  feel  that  per- 
haps if  she  imitated  her  she  would  find  what  she  was  seeking 
with  so  much  trouble,  —  an  interest  in  life,  a  sentiment  of 
the  dignity  of  life  which  would  never  have  any  thing  in  com- 
mon with  the  social  relationship  of  young  women  to  young 
men,  which  now  seemed  to  Kitty  like  an  ignominious  ex- 
posure of  merchandise  to  be  taken  by  the  highest  bidder. 
The  more  she  studied  her  unknown  friend,  the  more  she 
longed  to  become  acquainted  with  her,  feeling  that  she  was 


228  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

a  creature  of  such  perfection,  that  she  would  like  to  take  her 
as  an  example  for  herself. 

The  young  girls  passed  each  other  many  times  every  da)' ; 
and  Kitty's  eyes  seemed  always  to  saj",  "Who  are  you? 
What  are  you  ?  Are  you  not,  in  truth,  the  charming  person 
that  I  imagine  you  to  be?  But  for  Heaven's  sake,"  the  look 
seemed  to  add,  "  don't  think  that  I  would  be  indiscreet 
enough  to  demand  your  acquaintance  !  it  is  sufficient  for  me 
to  admire  you,  and  to  love  you." 

"  I  also  love  you,  and  you  are  veiy,  very  charming  ;  and 
I  would  love  you  still  better,  if  I  had  time,"  replied  the  look 
of  the  stranger :  and  indeed  she  was  always  busy.  Now  it 
was  the  children  of  a  Russian  family  whom  she  was  taking 
home  from  the  baths,  now  an  invalid  who  had  to  be  wrapped 
in  his  plaid,  or  another  whom  she  was  trying  to  amuse,  or 
getting  confections  for  some  sick  person,  or  bringing  an- 
other his  coffee  and  cream. 

One  morning,  soon  after  the  arrival  of  the  Shcherbatskys, 
a  couple  appeared  who  immediately  became  the  object  of 
rather  unfriendly  criticism:  a  tall,  stooping  man,  with  enor- 
mous hands,  black  eyes,  at  once  innocent  and  terrifying, 
and  wearing  an  old,  ill-fitting,  short  coat.  The  woman  was 
no  less  outr6  in  her  costume  :  her  face  was  marked  with  small- 
pox, but  was  kindly  in  expression. 

Kitty  instantly  recognized  that  they  were  Russians ;  and 
her  imagination  was  at  work  constructing  a  touching  romance, 
of  which  they  were  the  principal  characters,  when  the  princess 
learned,  by  consulting  the  Jcurliste  (list  of  arrivals),  that  this 
was  Nikolai  Levin  and  Marya  Nikolayevna ;  and  she  put  an 
end  to  Kitty's  romance  by  telling  her  what  a  bad  man  this 
Levin  was. 

The  fact  that  he  was  Konstantin  Levin's  brother,  even 
more  than  her  mother's  words,  made  these  two  people  par- 
ticularly repulsive  to  Kitty.  This  man  with  the  strange 
motion  of  his  head  became  odious  to  her  ;  and  she  imagined 
that  she  could  read  in  his  great,  wild  eyes,  as  they  persist- 
ently followed  her,  sentiments  of  irony  and  ill  will :  as  far 
as  possible,  she  avoided  meeting  him. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  229 


XXXI,  &  XXXII. 

IT  was  a  stormy  da}' :  the  rain  fell  all  the  morning,  and 
the  invalids  with  umbrellas  thronged  in  the  galleries. 

Kitty  and  her  mother,  accompanied  by  the  Muscovite 
colonel  playing  the  elegant  in  his  European  overcoat,  bought 
ready  made  in  Frankfort,  were  walking  on  one  side  of 
the  gallery,  in  order  to  avoid  Nikolai  Levin,  who  was  on  the 
other.  Varenka  in  her  sombre  dress,  and  a  black  hat  with 
the  brim  turned  down,  was  acting  as  guide  to  a  blind  old 
French  woman  :  each  time  that  she  and  Kitty  met,  they  ex- 
changed friendly  glances. 

"  Mamma,  cau  I  speak  with  her?  "  asked  Kitt}',  seeing  her 
unknown  friend  approaching  the  spring,  and  judging  that  it 
was  a  favorable  time  for  them  to  meet. 

"Yes,  if  you  are  very  anxious.  I  will  inquire  about  her, 
and  make  her  acquaintance  first,"  said  her  mother.  "But 
why  do  you  wish  to  know  her?  She  is  only  a  ladies'  com- 
panion. If  you  like,  I  can  speak  to  Madame  Stahl.  I  knew 
her  belle-sceur,"  added  the  princess,  raising  her  head  with 
dignity. 

Kitty  knew  that  her  mother  was  vexed  at  the  attitude  of 
Madame  Stahl,  who  seemed  to  avoid  her ;  and  she  did  not 
press  the  point. 

"  How  charming  she  is !  "  said  she,  as  she  saw  Varenka 
give  the  blind  French  lady  a  glass.  "  See  how  lovely  and 
gentle  every  thing  is  that  she  does." 

"You  amuse  me  with  your  engouements  "  [infatuations], 
replied  the  princess.  "No,  let  us  not  go  farther,"  she 
added,  as  she  saw  Levin  approaching  with  Mary  a  and  a 
German  doctor,  with  whom  he  was  speaking  in  a  sharp  and 
augiy  tone. 

As  they  turned  to  go  back,  suddenly  they  heard  the  sound 
of  angry  voices  and  a  cry.  Levin  had  stopped,  and  was 
shrieking  with  excited  gestures.  The  doctor  was  also  angry. 
A  crowd  was  gathering  around  them  in  a  ring..  The  princess 
and  Kitty  hurried  away,  but  the  colonel  joined  the  throng  to 
find  out  what  the  trouble  was.  After  a  few  moments  he 
came  back  to  them. 

"  What  was  it?  "  asked  the  princess. 

"It  is  a  shame  and  a  disgrace,"  replied  the  colonel. 
"  Nothing  worse  than  to  meet  these  Russians  abroad.  This 


230  ANNA   K Alt  ti  NINA. 

huge  gentleman  quarrelled  with  his  doctor,  heaped  indignities 
upon  him  for  not  attending  to  him  as  he  wished,  and  finally 
he  raised  his  cane.  It  is  disgraceful." 

"  Ach !  how  unpleasant !  how  unpleasant !  "  said  the  prin- 
cess. "  Nu!  how  did  it  end  ?" 

"Fortunately,  this  —  this  girl  with  a  hat  like  a  toadstool 
interfered.  A  Russian,  it  seems,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  Mademoiselle  Varenka?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !  She  went  quicker  than  any  one  else,  and  took 
the  angry  gentleman  by  the  arm,  and  led  him  off." 

"  There,  mamma  !  "  said  Kitty,  "  and  you  wonder  at  my 
enthusiasm  for  Varenka  !  " 

The  next  morning  Kitty  noticed  that  Varenka  was  taking 
up  with  Levin  and  Marya  just  the  same  as  with  her  other 
proteges:  she  was  talking  with  them,  and  acting  as  inter- 
preter to  the  woman,  who  did  not  know  any  language  besides 
her  own. 

Kitty  again  begged  her  mother  even  more  urgently  to  let 
her  become  acquainted  with  Vareuka  ;  and  though  it  was  un- 
pleasant to  the  princess  to  seem  to  be  making  advances  to 
the  haughty  and  exclusive  Madame  Stahl,  she  satisfied  her- 
self that  all  was  perfectly  proper  in  the  proposed  acquaint- 
ance. She  chose  a  moment  when  Kitty  was  at  the  spring, 
and  addressed  Varenka. 

"Allow  me  to  introduce  myself,"  said  she,  with  a  con- 
descending smile.  "  My  daughter  has  taken  a  great  fane}' 
to  you.  But  perhaps  you  do  not  know  me.  I  "  — 

"It  is  more  than  reciprocal,  princess,"  replied  Varenka 
quickly. 

'"What  a  good  thing  you  did  yesterday  towards  our  sad 
fellow-countryman,"  said  the  princess. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  replied.  —  "  I  do  not  remember  of 
having  done  any  thing." 

"  Yes,  indeed !  you  saved  this  Levin  from  an  unpleasant 
affair." 

"Ah,  yes!  sa  compagne  called  me,  and  I  tried  to  calm 
him  :  he  is  very  sick,  and  very  much  put  out  with  his  doctor. 
I  am  quite  used  to  this  kind  of  invalids." 

"Da/  I  believe  you  live  at  Mentoue  with  }*our  aunt, 
Madame  Stahl.  I  used  to  know  her  belle-sceur." 

"  No,  Madame  Stahl  is  not  my  aunt.  I  call  her  raaracm, 
but  I  am  no  relation  to  her.  I  was  brought  up  by  her," 
replied  Vareuka. 


ANNA  KAlitiNINA.  231 

All  this  was  said  with  perfect  simplicity  ;  and  the  expres- 
sion of  her  pleasing  face  was  so  frank  and  sincere,  that  the 
princess  began  to  understand  why  Kitty  was  so  charmed  by 
her. 

"  Nn!  what  is  this  Levin  going  to  do?  "  she  asked. 

"  He  is  going  away." 

At  this  moment,  Kitty,  radiant  with  pleasure  because  her 
mother  was  talking  with  her  friend,  came  in  from  the  spring. 

"  J\T«,  vot !  Kitty,  your  ardent  desire  to  know  Mademoi- 
selle"— 

"Varenka,"  said  the  young  girl.  "Everybody  calls  me 
so." 

Kitty  was  delighted,  and  without  speaking  pressed  her 
new  friend's  hand  a  loug  time,  but  without  any  response. 
Varenka' s  face,  however,  was  lighted  with  a  happy  expression 
tinged  with  melancholy  ;  and  when  she  laughed,  she  showed 
her  large  but  handsome  teeth. 

"I  have  been  longing  to  know  you,"  she  said.  "But 
you  are  so  busy  "  — 

"  Ach  !  on  the  contrary,  I  haven't  any  thing  to  do,"  replied 
Varenka  ;  but  at  the  same  instant  two  little  Russian  girls,  the 
daughters  of  an  invalid,  ran  towards  her,  and  said, — 

"Varenka,  mamma  is  calling." 

And  Vareuka  followed  them. 

When  the  princess  set  out  to  find  about  Varenka's  past 
life,  and  her  relations  with  Madame  Stahl,  she  learned  the 
following  particulars  :  — 

Madame  Stahl  had  always  been  a  sickly  and  excitable 
woman,  who  was  said  by  some  to  have  tormented  the  life 
out  of  her  husband,  and  by  others  to  have  been  made  un- 
happy by  his  unreasonable  behavior.  After  she  was  divorced 
from  her  husband,  she  gave  birth  to  her  first  child,  who  did 
not  live.  Madame  Stahl's  family,  knowing  her  sensitiveness, 
and  fearing  that  the  shock  would  kill  her,  substituted  for 
the  dead  child  the  daughter  of  Court,  a  cook,  born  on  the 
same  night,  and  in  the  same  house  at  Petei'sburg.  It  was 
Varenka.  Madame  Stahl  afterwards  learned  that  the  child 
was  not  her  own,  but  continued  to  take  charge  of  it,  the 
more  willingly  as  the  true  parents  shortly  after  died,  leaving 
it  without  relatives. 

For  more  than  ten  years  Madame  Stahl  lived  abroad,  in 
the  South,  scarcely  ever  leaving  her  bed.  Some  said  that 
she  had  made  a  public  show  of  her  piety  and  good  works : 


232  ANNA 

others  saw  in  her  a  superior  being  of  real  moral  elevation, 
and  asserted  that  she  lived  onl}-  for  the  sake  of  her  charities  ; 
in  a  word,  that  she  was  really  what  she  seemed  to  be.  No 
one  knew  whether  she  was  Catholic,  Protestant,  or  orthodox  ; 
one  thing  alone  was  certain,  —  that  she  had  friendly  relations 
with  the  high  dignitaries  of  all  the  Churches  and  of  all  com- 
munions. 

Varenka  always  lived  with  Madame  Stahl ;  and  all  who 
knew  Madame  Stahl  knew  Mile.  Varenka  also,  and  loved  her. 

Kitty  became  more  and  more  attached  to  her  friend,  and 
each  day  discovered  some  new  charm  in  her.  The  princess, 
seeing  that  Varenka's  manners  were  excellent,  and  that  she 
was  well  educated,  speaking  French  and  English  perfectly, 
did  not  discourage  the  friendship,  and,  having  discovered 
that  she  sang,  invited  her  to  come  and  spend  an  evening  with 
them. 

"  Kitty  plays,  and  we  have  a  piano  ;  and,  though  the  instru- 
ment is  bad,  we  shall  be  delighted  to  hear  you,"  said  the 
princess  with  a  forced  politeness  that  was  displeasing  to 
Kitty,  especially  as  she  knew  that  Varenka  did  not  want  to 
sing.  She  came,  however,  that  same  evening,  and  brought 
her  music.  The  princess  invited  Marya  Evgenyevna  and  her 
daughter,  and  the  colonel.  Varenka  seemed  not  to  mind 
the  presence  of  these  people,  who  were  strangers  to  her,  but 
sat  down  to  the  piano  without  being  urged :  she  could  not 
accompany  herself,  but  she  read  the  notes  perfectly.  Kitty 
played  very  well,  and  accompanied  her. 

"  You  have  a  remarkable  talent,"  said  the  princess  after 
the  first  song,  which  Varenka  sang  beautifully. 

Marya  f^vgenyevna  and  her  daughter  added  their  compli- 
ments and  their  thanks. 

"See,"  said  the  colonel,  looking  out  of  the  window, 
"what  an  audience  you  have  attracted."  In  fact,  a  large 
number  of  people  had  gathered  in  front  of  the  house. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  have  given  you  pleasure,"  said  Va- 
renka without  affectation. 

Kitty  looked  at  her  friend  proudly :  she  admired  her  art 
and  her  voice  and  her  face,  and,  more  than  all,  her  bearing. 
It  was  evident  that  Varenka  made  no  boast  of  her  singing, 
and  was  indifferent  to  compliments.  She  simply  seemed  to 
say,  "  Shall  I  sing  some  more,  or  is  that  enough?  " 

"If  I  were  in  her  place,  how  proud  I  should  be! 
How  happy  I  should  be  to  see  that  crowd  under  the 


ANNA    KARtiNINA.  233 

window !  But  she  seems  perfectly  unconscious  of  it.  All 
that  she  seemed  to  want  was  to  please  maman.  What  is 
there  about  her  ?  What  is  it  that  gives  her  this  power  of  in- 
difference, this  calmness  and  independence?  Plow  I  should 
like  to  learn  of  her!  "  thought  Kitty,  as  she  looked  into  her 
peaceful  face. 

The  princess  asked  for  a  second  song  ;  and  Varenka  sang 
this  as  well  as  the  first,  with  the  same  care  and  the  same  per- 
fection, standing  erect  near  the  piano,  and  beating  time  with 
her  little  brown  hand. 

The  next  piece  in  her  music-roll  was  an  Italian  ana. 
Kitty  played  the  introduction,  and  turned  towards  Varenka. 

"  Let  us  skip  that,"  said  she,  blushing. 

Kitty,  in  surprise  and  wonder,  fixed  her  eyes  on  Varenka's 
face. 

"  Nu!  another  one,"  she  said,  hastily  turning  the  pages, 
and  somehow  feeling  an  intuition  that  the  Italian  song 
brought  back  to  her  friend  some  painful  association. 

"No,"  replied  Varenka,  putting  her  hand  on  the  notes. 
•"  Let  us  sing  this."  And  she  sang  as  calmly  and  coolly  as 
before. 

After  the  singing  was  over,  they  all  thanked  her  again, 
and  went  out  into  the  dining-room  to  drink  tea.  Kitty  and 
Varenka  went  down  into  the  little  garden  next  the  house. 

"  You  had  some  association  with  that  song,  did  you  not?" 
asked  Kitty.  "  You  need  not  tell  me  about  it:  simply  say, 
'Yes,  I  have.'  " 

"Why  should  I  not  tell  you  about  it?  Yes,  there  is  an 
association,"  said  Varenka  calmly,  "  and  it  is  a  painful  one. 
I  once  loved  a  man,  and  used  to  sing  that  piece  to  him." 

Kitty  with  wide-open  eyes  looked  at  Varenka  meekly,  but 
did  not  speak. 

"  I  loved  him,  and  he  loved  me  also ;  but  his  mother  was 
unwilling,  and  he  married  some  one  else.  He  does  not  live 
very  far  from  us  now,  and  I  sometimes  see  him.  You  didn't 
think  that  I  also  had  my  romance,  did  you?  "  And  her  face 
lighted  up  with  a  rare  beauty,  and  a  fire  such  as  Kitty 
imagined  might  have  been  habitual  in  other  days. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  have  thought  so?  If  I  were  a  man  I 
could  never  have  loved  any  one  else  after  knowing  you," 
said  Kitty.  "  What  I  cannot  conceive  is,  that  he  was  able  to 
forget  you,  and  make  you  unhappy  for  the  sake  of  obeying 
his  mother.  He  couldn't  have  had  any  heart." 


234  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  was  an  excellent  man  :  and  I,  I  am 
not  unhappy;  I  am  very  happy  —  nu!  Shall  we  sing  any 
more  this  evening?"  she  added,  turning  towards  the  house. 

"  How  good  you  are!  how  good  you  are!"  cried  Kitty, 
stopping  to  kiss  her.  "  If  I  could  only  be  a  bit  like 
you  !  " 

"  Why  should  you  resemble  any  one  else  besides  yourself? 
Stay  the  good  girl  that  you  are,"  said  Varenka,  with  her 
sweet  and  melancholy  smile. 

"  No,  I  am  not  good  at  all.  Nu!  tell  me.  — Stay,  stay  ; 
let  us  sit  down  a  little  while,"  said  Kitty,  drawing  her  down 
to  a  settee  near  by.  "Tell  me  how  it  can  be  other  than  a  pain 
to  think  of  a  man  who  has  scorned  your  love,  who  has 
jilted  you." 

"  Da!  he  did  not  scorn  it  at  all :  I  am  sure  that  he  loved 
me.  But  he  was  a  dutiful  son,  and  "  — 

"  And  suppose  it  had  not  been  for  the  sake  of  his  mother,  — 
of  his  own  free  will,"  said  Kitty,  feeling  that  she  was  be- 
traying her  secret  by  her  face  as  well  as  by  her  words. 

"  Then  he  would  not  have  behaved  honorably,  and  I- 
should  not  mourn  for  him,"  replied  Varenka,  perceiving  that 
the  supposition  concerned,  not  herself,  but  Kitty. 

"  But  the  insult !  "  cried  Kitty.  '•  Can  one  forget  the  in- 
sult? It  is  impossible,"  said  she,  remembering  her  own 
look  when  the  music  stopped  at  the  last  ball. 

"  Whose  insult?     You  didn't  do  any  thing  wrong?" 

"  Worse  than  wrong,  —  shameful !  " 

Varenka  shook  her  head,  and  laid  her  hand  on  Kitty's. 

"  Da!  but  why  shameful?  "  she  asked.  "You  surely  did 
not  tell  a  man  who  showed  indifference  to  you  that  you  loved 
him?" 

"Certainly  not:  I  never  uttered  a  word.  But  he  knew  it. 
There  are  looks,  ways  —  no,  no!  not  if  I  lived  a  hundred 
years  should  I  ever  forget  it." 

"Now,  what  is  it?  I  don't  understand  you.  The  ques- 
tion is  solely  this  :  do  you  love  him  now,  or  not?  "  said  Va- 
renka, who  liked  to  call  things  by  their  right  names. 

"  I  hate  him.    I  cannot  forgive  myself." 

"But  what  for?" 

"  The  shame,  the  insult." 

"Ach!  if  every  one  were  as  sensitive  as  you !  There  is 
never  a  young  girl  who  does  not  sometimes  feel  the  same  way. 
It  is  all  such  a  trifling  thing !  " 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  235 

"  But  what,  then,  is  important?  "  asked  Kitty,  looking  at 
Varenka  with  astonishment  and  curiosity. 

"Ach!  many  things  are  important,"  replied  Varenka, 
with  a  smile. 

"Da!  but  what?  " 

"Ach!  there  are  many  things  more  important,"  replied 
Vareuka,  not  knowing  what  to  say  ;  but  at  that  moment  the 
princess  shouted  from  the  window,  — 

"  Kitty,  it  is  getting  cool ;  put  on  your  shawl,  or  come  in." 

"It  is  time  to  go,"  said  Varenka,  getting  up.  "I  must 
go  and  see  Madame  Berthe :  she  asked  me  to  come." 

Kitty  held  her  by  the  hand,  and  asked  her,  with  a  look  full 
of  passionate,  almost  supplicating,  curiosity,  — 

"  What  is  it  that  is  so  important?  What  can  give  calm? 
You  know  :  tell  me." 

But  Varenka  did  not  understand  the  meaning  of  Kitty's 
look.  She  remembered  only  that  she  had  still  to  go  to  see 
Madame  Berthe,  and  to  get  home  at  midnight  for  tea  with 
maman.  She  went  back  to  the  room,  picked  up  her  music, 
and,  having  said  good-night  to  all,  she  was  going  to  take  her 
departure. 

"  Allow  me  :  I  will  escort  you,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  princess.  "  How  could  you  go  home 
alone  at  night?  I  was  going  to  send  Parasha  with  you." 

Kitty  saw  that  Varenka  could  hardly  keep  from  smiling  at 
the  idea  that  she  needed  any  one  to  go  home  with  her. 

"  No,  I  always  go  home  alone,  and  nothing  ever  happens 
to  me,"  said  she,  taking  her  hat,  and  leaving  Kitty  again, 
though  she  did  not  tell  her  "•  the  one  important  thing."  She 
hurried  away  with  firm  steps,  her  music-roll  under  her  arm, 
and  disappeared  in  the  semi-darkness  of  a  summer  night, 
cariying  with  her  the  secret  of  her  dignity  and  her  enviable 
calmness. 

XXXIII. 

KITTY  made  Madame  Stahl's  acquaintance,  and  her  rela- 
tions with  this  lady  and  Varenka  had  a  calming  influence 
upon  her. 

She  learned,  through  this  friendship,  that  there  existed  an 
entirely  new  world,  which  hitherto  had  been  hidden  from  her, 
—  a  beautiful,  supernal  world,  which  would  enable  her  to  look 
calmly  on  her  past.  This  world,  which  was  entirety  apart 


236  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

from  the  instinctive  life  which  hitherto  she  had  led,  was  the 
spiritual  life.     This  life  was  reached  by  religion, — not  the 
religion  to  which  Kitty  had  been  accustomed  since  infancy, 
a  religion  which  consisted  of  going  to  morning  and  evening 
service,  and  to  the  House  of  Widows,  where  she  met  her  ac- 
quaintances, or  of  learning  by  heart  Slavonic  texts  with  the 
parish  priest,   but  a  lofty,  mystic  religion,  united  with  the\ 
purest  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  believed  in  not  through  i 
dut}',  but  through  love.  / 

Kitty  learned  all  this,  but  not  by  words.  Madame  StahT 
spoke  to  her  as  to  a  lonely  child  whom  she  loved  as  the 
type  of  her  own  youth,  and  only  once  did  she  make  any 
allusion  to  the  consolation  brought  by  faith  and  love  for 
human  sorrows,  and  to  the  compassion  of  Christ,  who  looked 
upon  no  sorrows  as  insignificant ;  and  she  immediately 
changed  the  subject.  But  in  all  this  lady's  motions,  in  her 
words,  in  her  heavenly  looks,  as  Kitty  called  them,  and, 
above  all,  in  the  story  of  her  life,  which  she  knew  through 
Varenka,  Kitty  discovered  "  the  important  thing  "  which  till 
now  had  been  but  a  sealed  book  to  her. 

But,  lofty  as  Madame  Stahl's  character  was,  touching  as 
was  her  history,  Kitty  could  not  help  noticing  certain  peculi- 
arities, which  troubled  her.  One  day,  for  example,  when 
her  relatives  were  mentioned.  Madame  Stahl  smiled  disdain- 
fully :  it  was  contrary  to  Christian  charity.  Another  time 
Kitty  noticed,  when  she  met  a  Roman-Catholic  dignitary  call- 
ing upon  her,  that  Madame  Stahl  kept  her  face  carefully 
shaded  by  the  curtain,  and  had  a  strange  look  in  her  face. 
These  two  incidents,  though  of  slight  importance,  gave  her 
some  pain,  and  caused  her  to  doubt  Madame  Stahl's  sin- 
cerity. Varenka,  on  the  other  hand,  alone  in  the  world, 
without  family  connections,  without  friends,  hoping  for 
naught,  harboring  no  ill  will  after  her  bitter  disappointment, 
seemed  to  her  absolute  perfection.  It  was  through  Varenka 
that  she  learned  how  to  forget  herself,  and  to  love  her  neigh- 
bor, if  she  wanted  to  be  happy,  calm,  and  good.  And,  when 
once  she  learned  this,  Kitty  was  no  longer  willing  simply  to 
admire,  but  she  gave  herself  up  with  her  whole  heart  to  the 
new  life  which  opened  before  her.  After  the  stories  which 
Varenka  told  her  of  Madame  Stahl  and  others  whom  she 
named,  Kitty  drew  up  a  plan  for  her  coming  life.  She  de- 
cided, that,  following  the  example  of  Aline,  Madame  Stahl's 
niece,  whom  Varenka  often  told  her  about,  she  would  visit 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  237 

the  poor,  no  matter  where  she  found  them,  and  that  she 
would  aid  them  to  the  best  of  her  ability  ;  that  she  would 
distribute  the  gospel,  read  the  New  Testament  to  the  sick, 
to  the  dying,  to  criminals  :  this  last  idea  especially  appealed 
to  her.  But  she  indulged  in  these  dreams  secretly,  without 
telling  her  mother  of  them,  or  even  her  friend. 

However,  while  she  was  waiting  to  be  able  to  carry  out 
her  schemes  on  a  wider  scale,  it  was  not  difficult  for  Kitty 
to  put  her  new  principles  in  practice :  at  the  waters  the  sick 
and  the  unhappy  are  easily  found,  and  she  did  as  Varenka 
did. 

The  princess  quickly  noticed  how  completely  Kitty  had 
fallen  under  the  influence  of  her  erigouement,  as  she  called 
Madame  Stahl,  and  particularly  Vareuka.  She  saw  that 
Kitty  imitated  Varenka,  not  only  in  her  deeds  of  charity,  but 
even  in  her  gait,  in  her  speech,  in  her  ways  of  shutting  her 
eyes.  Later  she  discovered  that  her  daughter  was  passing 
through  a  sort  of  crisis  of  the  soul  quite  independent  of  the 
influence  of  her  friends. 

One  evening  the  princess  saw  Kitty  reading  the  Gospels 
in  a  French  Testament  loaned  her  by  Madame  Stahl,  —  an 
unusual  custom  with  her.  She  also  noticed  that  she  avoided 
all  the  gayeties  of  life,  and  gave  her  time  to  the  sick  under 
Varenka 's  care,  and  particularly  to  a  family  of  a  poor  sick 
painter  named  Petrof . 

The  young  girl  seemed  proud  to  fill,  in  this  household,  the 
functions  of  a  sister  of  charity.  All  this  was  very  good ; 
and  the  princess  had  no  fault  to  find  with  it,  and  opposed  it 
all  the  less  from  the  fact  that  Petrof 's  wife  was  a  woman  of 
good  family,  and  that  one  day  the  Fiirstin,  noticing  Kitty's 
beauty,  had  praised  her,  and  called  her  the  "  ministering 
angel."  All  would  have  been  very  good  if  the  princess  had 
not  feared  the  exaggeration  into  which  her  daughter  might 
easily  be  led. 

"  II  ne  faut  rien  outrer"  ["One  must  never  go  to  ex- 
tremes "],  she  said  to  her  in  French. 

The  young  girl  did  not  answer  ;  but  she  questioned  from  the 
bottom  of  her  heart  whether  one  could  ever  go  to  extremes 
in  a  religion  which  bids  you  offer  your  left  cheek  when  the 
right  has  been  struck,  and  to  give  your  cloak  to  your  neigh- 
bor. But  what  pained  the  princess  even  more  than  this 
tendency  to  exaggeration,  was  to  feel  that  Kitty  was  unwill- 
ing to  open  her  heart  to  her  mother.  In  point  of  fact,  Kitty 


238  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

made  a  secret  of  these  new  feelings,  not  because  she  lacked 
affection  or  respect  for  her  mother,  but  simply  because  she 
was  her  mother,  and  it  would  have  been  easier  to  confess 
them  to  a  stranger  than  to  her  mother. 

"It  is  a  long  time  since  Anna  Pavlovna  has  been  to  see 
us,"  said  the  princess  one  day,  speaking  of  Madame  Petrova. 
"  I  invited  her  to  come,  but  she  seems  offended." 

"No,  I  don't  think  so,  wumun,"  replied  Kitty  with  a 
guilty  look. 

"  You  have  not  been  with  her  lately,  have  you?  " 

"We  planned  a  walk  on  the  mountain  for  to-morrow," 
said  Kitty. 

"I  see  no  objection,"  replied  the  princess,  noticing  her 
daughter's  confusion,  and  trying  to  fathom  the  reason. 

Varenka  came  the  same  da}-,  and  announced  that  Anna 
Pavlovna  had  given  up  the  proposed  expedition.  The  prin- 
cess noticed  that  Kitty  looked  still  more  confused. 

"  Kitty,  there  has  not  been  any  thing  unpleasant  between 
you  and  the  Petrofs,  has  there?"  she  asked,  as  soon  as 
they  ^ere  alone.  "Why  have  they  ceased  to  send  their 
children,  or  to  come  themselves?  " 

Kitty  replied  that  nothing  had  happened,  and  that  she  did 
not  understand  why  Anna  Pavlovna  seemed  to  be  angry  with 
her ;  and  she  told  the  truth.  But,  if  she  did  not  know  the 
reasons  for  the  change  in  Madame  Petrova,  she  guessed 
them,  and  also  thus  guessed  a  thing  that  she  did  not  dare 
to  confess,  even  to  herself,  still  less  to  her  mother,  so 
humiliating  and  painful  it  would  have  been  had  she  been 
mistaken. 

All  the  memories  of  her  relations  with  this  family  came 
back  to  her,  one  after  the  other.  She  remembered  the  joy 
which  shone  on  Anna  Pavlovna's  honest  round  face  when 
they  first  met ;  their  secret  discussions  to  find  means  to  dis- 
tract the  invalid,  and  keep  him  from  the  forbidden  work,  and 
to  get  him  out  of  doors ;  the  attachment  of  the  youngest 
child,  who  called  her  Moya  Kiti,  and  would  not  go  to  bed 
without  her.  How  beautiful  every  thing  was  at  that  time  ! 
Then  she  remembered  Petrofs  thin  face,  his  long  neck 
stretching  out  from  his  brown  coat ;  his  thin  curly  hair ; 
his  blue  eyes,  with  their  questioning  look,  which  she  had 
feared  at  first ;  his  feeble  efforts  to  seem  lively  and  energetic 
when  she  was  near ;  the  trouble  that  she  had  to  overcome ; 
the  repugnance  which  he,  as  well  as  all  consumptives,  caused 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  239 

her  to  feel ;  and  the  trouble  which  she  had  in  finding  some- 
thing to  talk  with  him  about. 

She  remembered  the  sick  man's  humble  and  timid  looks 
when  he  saw  her,  and  the  strange  feeling  of  compassion  and 
awkwardness  which  came  over  her  at  first,  followed  by  the 
pleasant  consciousness  of  her  charitable  deeds.  How  lovely 
it  all  had  been  !  but  it  lasted  only  for  a  brief  moment. 
Now  and  for  several  days  there  had  been  a  sudden  change. 
Anna  Pavlovna  received  Kitty  with  scant  friendliness,  and 
did  not  cease  to  watch  her  husband. 

Could  it  be  that  the  invalid's  affecting  joy  at  the  sight  of 
her  was  the  cause  of  Anna  Pavlovna's  coolness?  "Yes," 
she  said  to  herself,  "there  was  something  unnatural  and  quite 
different  from  her  ordinary  sweet  temper  when  she  said  to 
me,  day  before  yesterday,  sharply,  '  Vot!  he  will  not  do  any 
thing  without  you  ;  he  would  not  even  take  his  coffee,  though 
he  was  very  faint.' ' 

"Da!  perhaps  it  was  not  agreeable  to  her  when  I  gave 
him  his  plaid.  It  was  such  a  simple  little  thing  to  do ;  but 
he  seemed  so  strange,  and  thanked  me  so  warmly,  that  I  felt 
ill  at  ease.  And  then  that  portrait  of  me  which  he  painted 
so  well ;  but,  above  all,  his  gentle  and  melancholy  look. 
Yes,  yes,  it  must  be  so,"  Kitty  repeated  with  horror.  "No, 
it  cannot  be,  it  must  not  be  !  He  is  to  be  pitied  so  !  "  she 
added  in  her  secret  heart. 

This  suspicion  poisoned  the  pleasure  of  her  new  life. 

XXXIV. 

JUST  before  their  season  at  the  Spa  was  over,  Prince 
Shcherbatsky  rejoined  them.  He  had  been  to  Carlsbad,  to 
Baden,  and  to  Kissiugen,  with  Russian  friends,  —  "  to  get  a 
breath  of  Russian  air,"  as  he  expressed  it. 

The  prince  and  princess  had  conflicting  ideas  in  regard  to 
living  abroad.  The  princess  thought  that  every  thing  was 
lovely  ;  and,  notwithstanding  her  assured  position  in  Russian 
society,  she  put  on  the  airs  of  a  European  lady  while  she 
was  abroad,  which  was  not  becoming,  for  she  was  in  every 
way  a  genuine  Russian  baruina.  The  prince,  on  the  other 
hand,  considered  every  thing  abroad  detestable,  and  the 
European  life  unendurable ;  and  he  even  exaggerated  his 
Russian  characteristics,  and  tried  to  be  less  of  a  European 
than  he  really  was. 


240  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

He  came  back  emaciated  and  with  hollows  under  his  eyes, 
but  in  his  ordinary  happy  spirits  ;  and  he  felt  still  more  gay 
when  he  found  that  Kitty  was  on  the  road  to  health. 

The  accounts  that  he  heard  of  Kitty's  intimacy  with 
Madame  Stahl  and  Vareuka,  and  the  princess's  description 
of  the  moral  transformation  through  which  his  daughter  was 
passing,  rather  vexed  the  prince,  awaking  in  him  that  feel- 
ing of  jealousy  which  he  always  had  in  regard  to  every  thing 
that  might  draw  Kitty  away  from  under  his  influence.  He 
was  afraid  that  she  might  ascend  to  regions  unattainable  to 
him.  But  these  disagreeable  presentiments  were  swallowed 
up  in  the  sea  of  gayety  and  good  humor  which  he  always 
carried  with  him,  and  which  his  sojourn  at  Carlsbad  had 
increased. 

The  day  after  his  arrival,  the  prince,  in  his  long  ulster,  and 
with  his  Russian  wrinkles  and  his  puffy  cheeks  standing  out 
above  his  stiffly  starched  collar,  went  in  the  very  best  of 
spirits  with  Kitty  to  the  spring. 

The  morning  was  beautiful.  The  neat,  gay  houses,  with 
their  little  gardens,  the  sight  of  the  German  servants,  with 
their  red  faces  and  red  arms,  happily  working,  the  brilliant 
sun,  —  every  thing  filled  the  heart  with  pleasure.  But  as 
they  came  nearer  to  the  spring  they  met  more  and  more 
invalids,  whose  lamentable  appearance  contrasted  painfully 
with  the  trim  and  beneficent  Germanic  surroundings. 

For  Kitty  the  bright  sunlight,  the  vivid  green  of  the  trees, 
the  sounds  of  the  music,  all  formed  a  natural  framework  for 
these  well-known  faces,  whose  changes  for  better  or  worse 
she  had  been  watching.  But  for  the  prince  there  was  some- 
thing cruel  in  the  contrast  between  this  bright  June  morning, 
the  orchestra  playing  the  latest  waltz,  and  especially  the 
sight  of  these  healthy-looking  servants,  and  the  miserable 
invalids,  from  all  the  corners  of  Europe,  dragging  themselves 
painfully  along. 

In  spite  of  the  return  of  his  youth  which  the  prince  ex- 
perienced, and  the  pride  that  he  felt  in  having  his  favorite 
daughter  on  his  arm,  he  confessed  to  a  sense  of  shame  and 
awkwardness  in  walking  along  with  his  firm  step  and  his  vig- 
orous limbs. 

"  Introduce  me,  introduce  me  to  your  new  friends,"  said  he 
to  his  daughter,  pressing  her  arm  with  his  elbow.  "I  am  be- 
ginning to  like  your  abominable  Soden  for  the  good  which  it 
has  done  you.  Only  it  is  melancholy  for  you.  Who  is  this?" 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  241 

Kittj'  told  the  names  of  the  acquaintances  and  strangers 
that  they  met  on  their  way.  At  the  very  entrance  of  the 
garden  they  met  Madame  Berthe  and  her  companion,  and 
the  prince  was  pleased  to  see  the  expression  of  joy  on  the 
old  woman's  face  at  the  sound  of  Kitty's  voice.  With  true 
French  exaggeration  she  overwhelmed  the  prince  with  com- 
pliments, and  congratulated  him  on  having  such  a  charming 
daughter,  whose  merits  she  praised  to  the  skies,  declaring 
that  she  was  a  treasure,  a  pearl,  a  ministering  angel. 

"  Nu!  she  must  be  angel  number  two,"  said  the  prince 
gallantly,  ''for  she  assures  me  that  Mademoiselle  Varenka 
is  angel  number  one." 

"Oh!  Mademoiselle  Varenka  is  truly  an  angel.  Allez," 
said  Madame  Berthe  vivaciously. 

They  soon  met  Varenka  herself  in  the  gallery.  She  has- 
tened up  to  them,  carrying  an  elegant  red  bag  in  her  hand. 

"  Here  is  papa,"  said  Kitty. 

Varenka  made  the  prince  a  simple  and  natural  salutation, 
almost  like  a  courtesy,  and  without  any  false  modesty  entered 
into  conversation  with  him. 

11  Of  course  I  know  you,  —  know  you  very  well  already," 
said  the  prince,  with  a  pleasant  expression  that  made  Kitty 
see  that  her  father  liked  her  friend.  "  Where  were  you 
going  so  fast?  " 

"  Maman  is  here,"  she  replied,  turning  to  Kitty.  "She 
did  not  sleep  all  night,  and  the  doctor  advised  her  to  take 
the  air.  I  have  brought  her  work." 

"So  that  is  angel  number  one?"  said  the  prince  when 
Varenka  had  gone.  Kitty  saw  that  he  had  intended  to  rally 
her  about  her  friend,  but  had  refrained  because  her  friend 
had  pleased  him. 

"  Nu!  let  us  go  and  see  them  all,"  said  he,  —  "  all  your 
friends,  even  Madame  Stahl  if  she  will  deign  to  remember 
me." 

"But  did  you  ever  know  her,  papa?"  asked  Kitty  with 
fear,  as  she  saw  an  ironical  flash  in  her  father's  eyes  as  he 
mentioned  Madame  Stahl. 

"  I  knew  her  husband,  and  I  knew  her  a  little  before  she 
joined  the  Pietists." 

"What  are  these  Pietists,  papa?"  asked  Kitty,  troubled 
because  such  a  nickname  was  given  to  what  in  Madame 
Stahl  she  valued  so  highly. 

"  I  myself  do  not  know  much  about  them.     I  only  know 


242  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

this,  that  she  thanks  God  for  all  her  tribulations,  and,  above 
all,  because  her  husband  is  dead.  Nu!  and  that  is  comical, 
because  they  did  not  live  happily  together.  But  who  is  that? 
What  a  melancholy  face!"  he  added,  seeing  an  invalid  in 
a  brown  coat,  with  white  pantaloons  making  strange  folds 
around  emaciated  legs.  This  gentleman  had  raised  his  straw 
hat,  and  bared  his  sparse  curly  hair  and  high  forehead,  on 
which  showed  the  red  line  made  by  the  brim. 

"That  is  Petrof,  a  painter,"  replied  Kitty,  with  a  blush; 
"  and  there  is  his  wife,"  she  added,  pointing  to  Anna  Pav- 
lovna,  who,  at  their  approach,  had  risen  to  run  after  one  of 
their  children  playing  in  the  street. 

"Poor  fellow!  and  what  a  good  face  he  has!  "  said  the 
prince.  "But  why  did  you  not  go  to  him?  He  seemed 
anxious  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Nu!  let  us  go  back  to  him,"  said  Kitty,  resolutely  turn- 
ing about.  —  "  How  do  you  feel  to-day?  "  she  asked. 

Petrof  arose,  leaning  en  his  cane,  and  looked  timidly  at 
the  prince. 

"This  is  my  daughter,"  said  the  prince:  "allow  me  to 
mike  your  acquaintance." 

The  painter  bowed  and  smiled,  showing  teeth  of  strangely 
dazzling  whiteness. 

"  We  expected  you  yesterday,  princess,"  said  he  to 
Kitty. 

He  staggered  as  he  spoke  ;  and  to  conceal  the  fact  that  it 
was  involuntary,  he  repeated  the  motion. 

"  I  expected  to  come,  but  Varenka  told  me  that  Anna 
Pavlovna  sent  word  that  you  were  not  going." 

"That  we  weren't  going?"  said  Petrof,  troubled,  and 
beginning  to  cough.  Then  looking  towards  his  wife,  he  called 
hoarsely,  "  Anuetta !  Annetta !  "  while  the  great  veins  on 
his  thin  white  neck  stood  out  like  cords. 

Anna  Pavlovna  drew  near. 

"  How  did  you  send  word  to  the  princess  that  you  were 
not  going?  "  he  demanded  angrily,  in  a  whisper. 

"Good-morning,  princess."  said  Anna  Pavlovna,  in  a 
constrained  manner,  totally  different  from  her  former  effu- 
siveness. "  Very  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  she 
added,  addressing  the  prince.  "You  have  been  long  ex- 
pected, prince." 

"How  could  you  have  sent  word  to  the  princess  that  we 
were  not  going?  "  again  demanded  the  painter  in  his  hoarse 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  243 

whisper,  and  still  more  irritated  because  he  could  not  express 
himself  as  he  wished. 

"  Ach!  Bozhe  mo'i !  I  thought  that  we  were  not  going," 
said  his  wife  testily. 

"  How  ?  —  when  ?  "  —  but  a  coughing-fit  attacked  him,  and 
he  made  a  gesture  of  despair  with  his  hand. 

The  prince  raised  his  hat,  and  went  away  with  his  daughter. 

"  Oh  !  Ach  !  "  he  sighed.     "  Oh  these  poor  creatures  !  " 

"Yes,  papa,"  said  Kitty;  "and  you  must  know  that 
they  have  three  children,  and  no  servant,  and  no  means  at 
all.  He  receives  a  pittance  from  the  Academy,"  she  con- 
tinued eagerly,  so  as  to  conceal  the  emotion  caused  by  the 
change  in  Anna  Pavlovna  and  her  unfriendly  reception. 
"Ah,vot!  there  is  Madame  Stahl!"  said  Kitty,  directing 
his  attention  to  a  wheeled-chair,  in  which  was  lying  a  human 
form,  wrapped  in  gray  and  blue,  propped  up  by  pillows,  and 
shaded  by  an  umbrella.  A  solemn  and  sturdy  German  laborer 
was  pushing  her  chair.  Beside  her  walked  a  blond  Swedish 
count,  whom  Kitty  knew  by  sight.  Several  people  had 
stopped  near  the  wheeled-chair,  and  were  gazing  at  this 
lady  as  though  she  were  some  curiosity. 

The  prince  approached  her.  Kitty  instantl}'  noticed  in 
her  father's  eyes  that  ironical  glance  which  had  troubled  her 
before.  He  addressed  Madame  Stahl  in  that  excellent  French 
which  so  few  Russians  nowadays  are  able  to  speak,  and  was 
extremely  polite  and  friendly. 

"I  do  not  know  whether  you  still  recollect  me,  but  it  is 
my  duty  to  bring  myself  to  your  remembrance,  in  order  that 
I  may  thank  you  for  kindness  to  my  daughter,"  said  he, 
taking  off  his  hat,  and  holding  it  in  his  hand. 

"  Le  prince  Alexandre  Cherbatsky  !  "  said  Madame  Stahl, 
looking  at  him  with  her  heavenly  eyes,  in  which  Kitty 
thought  she  saw  a  shade  of  dissatisfaction.  "  I  am  en- 
chanted to  see  you :  I  am  very  fond  of  your  daughter." 

"  Your  health  is  not  always  good?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  am  pretty  well  used  to  it  now,"  replied  Madame 
Stahl  ;  and  she  presented  the  Swedish  count. 

"You  have  changed  very  little  during  the  ten  or  twelve 
years  since  I  had  the  honor  of  seeing  you." 

"  Yes.  God,  who  gives  the  cross,  gives  also  the  power  to 
carry  it.  I  often  ask  myself  why  my  life  is  so  prolonged.  — 
Not  like  that,"  said  she  crossly,  to  Varenka,  who  was  trying, 
without  success,  to  wrap  her  in  her  plaid. 


244  ANNA   KAKfiNINA. 

"For  doing  good,  without  doubt,"  said  the  prince,  with 
laughing  eyes. 

"  It  is  not  for  us  to  judge,"  replied  Madame  Stahl,  who 
had  not  failed  to  observe  the  gleam  of  irony  in  the  prince's 
face. 

"  I  pray  you  send  me  that  book,  dear  count.  I  thank  you 
a  thousand  times  in  advance,"  said  she,  turning  to  the  young 
Swede. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  the  prince,  who  had  just  caught  sight  of  the 
Muscovite  colonel ;  and  bowing  to  Madame  Stahl,  he  went 
away  with  his  daughter,  to  join  him. 

"This  is  our  aristocracy,  prince  !  "  said  the  colonel,  with 
sarcastic  intent,  for  he  also  was  piqued  because  Madame 
Stahl  refused  to  be  friendly. 

"  Always  the  same,"  replied  the  prince. 

"Did  you  know  her  before  her  illness,  prince,  —  that  is, 
before  she  became  an  invalid  ? ' ' 

"  Yes  :  she  became  an  invalid  when  I  knew  her." 

"  They  say  that  she  has  not  walked  for  ten  3Tears." 

"  She  does  not  walk,  because  one  leg  is  "shorter  than  the 
other.  She  is  very  badly  put  together  "  — 

"Papa,  it  is  impossible,"  cried  Kitty. 

"  Evil  tongues  say  so,  my  dear  ;  and  your  friend  Varenka 
ought  to  see  her  as  she  is.  Och!  these  invalid  ladies  !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  papa !  I  assure  you,  Varenka  adores  her,"  cried 
Kitty  eagerly  ;  "  and  besides,  she  isn't  deformed.  Ask  any 
one  you  please  :  Aline  Stahl  knows  her  thoroughly." 

"Maybe,"  replied  her  father,  pressing  her  arm  gently; 
"  but  it  would  be  better  for  people  to  be  a  little  less  con- 
spicuous in  making  their  charities." 

Kitty  was  silent,  not  because  she  could  not  have  replied, 
but  because,  even  to  her  father,  she  was  unwilling  to  reveal 
her  inmost  thoughts.  There  was  one  strange  thing,  how- 
ever :  decided  though  she  was,  not  to  unbosom  herself  to  her 
father,  not  to  let  him  penetrate  into  the  sanctuary  of  her 
reflections,  she  nevertheless  was  conscious  that  her  ideal  of 
holiness,  as  seen  in  Madame  Stahl,  which  she  had  for  a  whole 
mouth  carried  in  her  soul,  had  irrevocably  disappeared,  as  a 
face,  seen  in  a  garment  thrown  down  by  chance,  disappears 
when  one  really  sees  how  the  garment  is  lying.  She  retained 
only  the  image  of  a  lame  woman  who  staid  in  bed  to  conceal 
her  deformity,  and  who  tormented  poor  Varenka  because 
her  plaid  was  not  arranged  to  suit  her.  And  it  became  im- 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  245 

possible  for  her  imagination  to  bring  back  to  her  the  remem- 
brance of  the  former  Madame  Stahl. 


XXXV. 

THE  prince's  gayety  and  good-humor  were  contagious,  and 
none  of  his  household  and  acquaintances,  not  even  their 
German  landlord,  escaped  it.  When  he  came  in  with  Kitty, 
from  his  walk,  the  prince  invited  the  colonel,  Mary  a  Evgen- 
yevna  and  her  daughter,  and  Varenka,  to  lunch,  and  had 
the  table  spread  under  the  horse-chestnuts,  in  the  garden. 
The  larrdlord  and  his  domestics  were  filled  with  zeal  under 
the  influence  of  his  good  spirits.  They  also  knew  his  gene- 
rosity ;  and  within  half  an  hour  the  jollity  of  these  hearty  Rus- 
sians, sitting  under  the  horse-chestnuts,  was  filling  with  envy 
the  heart  of  a  sick  Hamburg  doctor,  who  occupied  the  first 
floor,  and  sighed  as  he  looked  upon  the  happy  group  under 
the  shady  trees. 

The  princess,  in  a  bonnet  trimmed  with  lilac  ribbons, 
presided  over  the  table,  which  was  spread  with  an  exceedingly 
white  cloth,  whereon  were  placed  the  coffee-service,  the 
bread,  butter,  cheese,  and  cold  game  ;  she  was  distributing 
cups  and  tarts  :  while  the  prince,  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table,  was  eating  with  good  appetite,  and  talking  with  great 
animation.  He  had  spread  out  in  front  of  him  all  his  pur- 
chases,—  wood-carvings,  paper-cutters,  ivory  toys  of  every 
kind,  which  he  had  brought  back  from  all  the  places  where 
he  had  been  ;  and  he  was  amusing  himself  by  giving  them 
around  to  all  his  guests,  not  even  forgetting  Lieschen  the 
maid,  or  the  master  of  the  house.  He  made  long  and  comi- 
cal speeches  to  the  latter,  in  his  bad  German,  and  assured 
him  that  it  was  not  the  waters  that  had  cured  Kitty,  but  his 
excellent  cuisine,  and  particularly  his  prune  soup.  The  prin- 
cess rallied  her  husband  on  his  Russian  peculiarities  ;  but 
never,  since  she  had  been  at  the  Spa,  had  she  been  so  gay  and 
lively.  The  colonel,  as  always,  was  amused  at  the  prince's 
sallies  of  wit ;  but  he  agreed  with  the  princess  on  the  Euro- 
pean question,  which  he  imagined  that  he  understood 
thoroughly.  The  good  Marya  Evgenyevna  laughed  till  the 
tears  ran  down  her  cheeks  ;  and  even  Varenka,  to  Kitty's 
great  astonishment,  was  awakened  from  her  ordinary  quiet 
melancholy  by  the  prince's  jests. 


246  ANNA   KAIitiNINA. 

All  this  delighted  Kitty,  but  she  could  not  free  herself 
from  mental  agitation  :  she  could  not  resolve  the  problem 
which  her  father  had  unintentionally  given  her  when  he  spoke 
in  his  jesting,  humorous  way  of  her  friends,  and  the  life  which 
offered  her  so  many  attractions.  Moreover,  she  could  not 
help  puzzling  herself  with  the  reasons  for  the  change  in  her 
relations  with  the  Petrofs,  which  had  struck  her  this  very 
day  more  plainly  and  disagreeably  than  ever.  Her  agitation 
increased  as  she  saw  the  gayety  of  the  others :  her  feelings 
were  the  same  as  when  she  was  a  very  little  girl,  and,  having 
been  punished  for  some  offence,  she  heard  from  her  room  her 
sisters  enjoying  themselves,  and  could  not  take  part. 

"•Nut  why  did  you  purchase  this  heap  of  things?"  asked 
the  princess,  offering  her  husband  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"  You  go  out  for  a  walk,  nu!  and  you  come  to  a  shop,  and 
they  address  you,  and  say,  lErlaucht,  Excellenz,  Durch- 
laucht!'  Nu!  when  they  get  to  Durcfilaucht  [highness],  I 
cannot  resist  any  longer,  and  my  ten  t  haters  vanish." 

"  It  was  merely  because  of  irksomeness  !  " 

"Certainly  it  was,  —  such  irksomeness  that  one  does  not 
know  how  to  escape  from  it." 

"But  how  can  you  be  bored?  There  are  so  many  inter- 
esting things  to  see  in  Germany  now,"  said  Marya  Evgen- 
yevna. 

"Da!  I  know  all  that  is  interesting  just  at  the  present 
time.  I  know  soup  with  prunes,  I  know  pea-pudding,  I 
know  every  thing." 

"It  is  idle  to  resist,  princess  :  their  institutions  are  inter- 
esting." 

l*Dat  but  how  are  they  interesting?  They  are  as  con- 
tented as  new  shillings  [lit.  groshi,  twenty  kopeks].  They 
have  whipped  the  world  !  Nu!  why  should  I  find  an\-  thing 
to  content  me  here?  I  never  conquered  anybody;  but  I 
have  to  take  off  my  boots  myself,  and,  what  is  worse,  put 
them  out  myself  in  the  corridor.  In  the  morning  I  get  up, 
and  have  to  dress  myself,  and  go  down  to  the  dining-room, 
and  drink  execrable  tea.  'Tisn't  like  that  at  home.  There 
you  can  get  up  when  you  please  :  if  you  are  out  of  sorts, 
you  can  be  out  of  sorts ;  you  have  all  the  time  you  want, 
and  you  can  do  whatever  you  please  without  hurrying." 

"  But  time  is  money :  don't  forget  that,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  That  depends.  There  are  whole  months  that  you  would 
sell  for  fifty  kopeks,  and  quarter-hours  that  you  would  not 


ANNA   KAR&N1NA.  247 

take  any  amount  of  money  for.  Isn't  that  so,  Kateuka? 
But  why  are  3-011  so  solemn?  " 

"  I  am  not,  papa." 

"Where  are  3-011  going?  Stay  a  little  longer,"  said  the 
prince  to  Varenka. 

"  But  I  must  go  home,"  said  Varenka,  rising,  and  laugh- 
ing gayly  again.  When  she  was  calmed,  she  took  leave  of 
her  friends,  and  went  to  get  her  hat. 

Kitty  followed  her.  Even  Varenka  seemed  to  her  friend 
changed.  She  was  not  less  good,  but  she  was  different  from 
what  she  had  imagined  her  to  be. 

"  Ach!  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  laughed  so  much," 
said  Varenka,  as  she  was  getting  her  parasol  and  her  satchel. 
"  How  charming  your  papa  is  !  " 

Kitty  did  not  answer. 

"  When  shall  I  see  3-011  again?  "  asked  Varenka. 

"  Maman  wanted  to  go  to  the  Petrofs'.  Will  you  be 
there?  "  asked  Kitt3T,  trying  to  read  Varenka. 

"  I  will  be  there,"  she  replied.  "  They  expect  to  go,  and 
I  am  going  to  help  them  pack." 

"Nu!     Then  I  will  go  with  3-011." 

"  No  :  why  should  you?  " 

"Why?  why?  why?"  asked  Kitt3T,  holding  Varenka  by 
her  sunshade,  and  opening  her  C37es  very  wide.  "Wait  a 
moment,  and  tell  me  why." 

"  "Why? '  Because  your  papa  has  come,  and  because  they 
are  vexed  at  you." 

"  No  :  tell  me  honestly  why  you  don't  like  to  have  me  go 
to  the  Petrofs'.  You  don't  like  it :  wl^  is  it?  " 

"  I  didn't  sa3r  so,"  replied  Varenka  calmly. 

"  I  beg  you  to  tell  me." 

"  Must  I  tell  you  all?" 

"All,  all,"  replied  Kitty. 

"Da!  At  bottom  there  is  nothing  very  serious:  only 
Mikhai'1  Aleks£yevitch —  that  was  Petrofs  name  —  was  will- 
ing to  leave  at  any  time,  and  now  he  does  not  want  to  go," 
replied  Varenka,  smiling. 

"  Nu!  Nu!"  cried  Kitty,  looking  at  Varenka  with  a 
gloomy  expression. 

"  Nu !  Anna  Pavlovua  imagines  that  he  does  not  want  to 
go  because  you  are  here.  Of  course  this  was  unfortunate ; 
but  you  have  been  the  cause  of  a  family  quarrel,  and  you 
know  how  irritable  these  invalids  are." 


248  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

Kitty  grew  still  more  melancholy,  and  kept  silent :  and 
Varenka  went  on  speaking,  trying  to  pacify  her,  and 
put  things  in  a  better  light,  though  she  foresaw  that  the 
result  would  be  either  tears  or  reproaches ;  she  knew 
not  which. 

"So  it  is  better  not  to  go  there,  you  see  ;  and  you  will 
not  be  angry  " — 

"But  I  deserved  it,  I  deserved  it,"  said  Kitty,  speaking 
rapidly,  and  still  holding  Varenka's  parasol,  and  not  looking 
at  her. 

Varenka  was  amused  at  her  friend's  childish  anger,  but 
she  was  afraid  of  offending  her. 

"  How  deserve  it?     I  don't  understand !  " 

"  I  deserve  it  because  this  was  all  pretence,  it  was  all 
hypocrisy,  and  because  it  did  not  come  from  the  heart. 
What  business  had  1  to  meddle  with  the  affairs  of  a  stranger? 
And  so  I  have  been  the  cause  of  a  quarrel,  and  simply  be- 
cause it  was  all  hypocrisy,  hypocrisy,"  said  she,  mechani- 
cally opening  and  shutting  the  sunshade. 

"But  why  do  you  call  it  hypocrisy?"  asked  Varenka 
gently. 

"Ach!  How  stupid,  how  wretched  !  It  was  none  of  my 
business.  Hypocrisy  !  hypocrisy  !  " 

"  But  why  hypocrisy?  " 

"  Because  I  did  it  to  seem  better  to  others,  to  myself,  to 
God,  —  to  deceive  everybody.  No,  I  will  not  fall  so  low 
again.  I  would  rather  be  wicked,  and  not  lie,  and  not 
deceive. 

"  Da!  But  who  is  a  liar?  "  asked  Varenka,  in  a  reproach- 
ful tone.  "  You  speak  as  if  "  — 

But  Kitty  was  thoroughly  angry,  and  did  not  let  her 
finish. 

"  I  was  not  speaking  of  you,  not  of  you  at  all.  You  are 
perfection.  Yes,  yes :  I  know  that  you  are  all  perfection. 
What  can  be  done?  I  am  wicked:  this  would  not  have 
occurred,  if  I  had  not  been  wicked.  So  much  the  worse.  I 
will  be  what  I  am,  and  I  will  not  be  deceitful.  What  have 
I  to  do  with  Anna  Pavlovna?  Let  them  live  as  they  want  to, 
and  I  will  do  the  same.  I  can't  be  somebody  else.  Besides, 
it  is  not  that  at  all  "  — 

"  Da!  What  isn't  '  that '  ?  "  asked  Varenka,  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Every  thing  !     I  can  only  live  by  my  heart,  but  you  live 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  249 

by  your  principles.  I  like  you  all ;  but  you  have  had  in  view 
only  to  save  me,  to  convert  me." 

"  You  are  not  fair,"  said  Varenka. 

"  Da!  I  am  not  speaking  about  the  rest  of  you.  I  only 
speak  for  myself." 

"  Kitty  !  "  cried  her  mother's  voice,  "  come  here,  and  show 
papa  your  corals." 

Kitty  took  the  box  with  the  corals  from  the  table,  carried 
it  to  her  mother  with  a  dignified  air,  but  she  did  not  become 
reconciled  with  her  friend. 

"What  is  the  matter?  why  are  you  so  red?  "  asked  her 
father  and  mother  with  one  voice. 

"Nothing:  I  am  coining  right  back;"  and  she  hurried 
to  the  house. 

"  She  is  still  there,"  she  thought:  "  what  shall  I  tell  her? 
Bozlie  mo'i !  what  have  I  done  ?  what  have  I  said  ?  Why  did 
I  hurt  her  feelings?  What  have  I  done?  what  did  I  say  to 
her?  "  she  asked  herself  as  she  hurried  to  the  door. 

Varenka,  with  her  hat  on,  was  sitting  by  the  table,  exam- 
ining the  remains  of  her  parasol,  which  Kitty  had  broken. 
She  raised  her  head. 

"  Vareuka,  forgive  me,"  whispered  Kitty,  coming  up  to 
her.  "  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  saying.  I  "  — 

"  Truly,  I  did  not  mean  to  cause  you  pain,"  said  Varenka, 
smiling. 

Peace  was  made.  But  her  father's  coming  had  changed 
for  Kitty  the  world  in  which  she  lived.  Without  giving  up 
what  she  had  learned,  she  confessed  that  she  had  been  under 
an  illusion  by  believing  that  she  was  what  she  had  dreamed 
of  being.  It  was  like  a  dream.  She  found  that  she  could 
not,  without  hypocrisy,  stay  on  such  an  elevation  :  she  felt, 
moreover,  still  more  vividly,  the  weight  of  the  misfortunes, 
the  ills,  the  agonies,  of  those  who  surrounded  her,  and  she 
felt  that  it  was  cruel  to  prolong  the  efforts  which  she  had 
made  to  interest  herself  in  them.  She  began  to  long  to 
breathe  the  purer,  healthier  atmosphere  of  Russia  at  Yer- 
gushovo,  where  Dolly  and  the  children  had  preceded  her,  as 
she  learned  from  a  letter  that  had  just  come. 

But  her  love  for  Varenka  had  not  diminished.  When  she 
went  away,  she  begged  her  to  come  and  visit  them  in  Russia. 

"  I  will  come  when  you  are  married,"  said  she. 

"  I  shall  never  marry." 

"  Nu!  then  I  shall  never  come." 


250  ANNA  KAEfiNINA. 

"  Nu  I  In  that  case,  I  shall  get  married  only  for  your  sake. 
Don't  forget  your  promise,"  said  Kitty. 

The  doctor's  prophecies  were  realized.  Kitty  came  home  to 
Russia  perfectly  well :  possibly  she  was  not  as  gay  and  care- 
less as  before,  but  her  calmness  was  restored.  The  pains  of 
the  past  were  only  a  memory. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  251 


PART  III. 
I. 

SERGEI  IVANOVITCH  KOZNUISHEF  liked  to  rest  after  his  in- 
tellectual labors :  and  instead  of  going  abroad,  as  usual,  he 
came,  towards  the  end  of  May,  to  visit  his  brother  in  the 
country.  In  his  opinion,  country  life  was  the  best  of  all,  and 
he  came  now  to  enjoy  it  at  Pokrovsky.  Konstantin  Levin 
was  very  glad  to  welcome  him,  the  more  because  he  did  not 
expect  his  brother  Nikolai'  this  summer.  But  in  spite  of  his 
love  and  respect  for  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  Konstantin  was  not 
altogether  at  his  ease  with  him  in  the  country.  It  was  ex- 
asperating and  unpleasant  for  him  to  see  his  brother's  be- 
havior.  For  Konstantin  the  country  was  the  place  for 
life, — for  pleasures,  sorrows,  labor.  For  Sergei  Ivano- 
vitch the  country,  on  the  contrary,  offered  rest  from  labor, 
and  a  profitable  antidote  against  the  corruption  which  he 
found  in  the  pleasures  and  acquaintances  of  his  life.  For 
Konstautin  Levin  the  country  was  the  more  beautiful  because 
it  offered  an  end  for  works  of  incontestable  utility.  For 
Sergei  Ivanovitch  the  country  was  vastly  more  delightful 
because  he  could  not,  and  need  not,  do  any  thing  at  all. 
Their  wa}-s  of  looking  at  the  peasantry  were  likewise  ex- 
actly diametrically  opposite  to  each  other.  Sergei  Ivano- 
vitch said  that  he  loved  and  knew  the  people  ;  and  he  will- 
ingly talked  with  the  muzhiks,  and  discovered,  in  his  inter- 
views with  them,  traits  of  character  honorable  to  the  people, 
so  that  he  felt  convinced  that  he  knew  them  thoroughly. 
Such  superficial  views  vexed  Konstantin  Levin.  For  him 
the  peasantry  was  only  the  chief  factor  in  associated  labor ; 
and  though  he  respected  the  muzhik,  and,  as  he  himself  said, 
drew  in  with  the  milk  of  the  woman  who  nursed  him  a  gen- 
uine love  for  them,  still  their  vices  exasperated  him  as  often 
as  their  virtues  struck  him.  For  him  the  people  represented 


252  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

the  principal  partner  in  a  labor  association,  and,  as  such,  he 
saw  no  need  of  making  a  distinction  between  the  qualities, 
the  faults,  and  the  interests  of  this  associate  and  those  of 
the  rest  of  men.  He  lived  among  them,  and  he  knew  them 
thoroughly  :  he  was  their  landlord,  their  mediator,  and,  what 
was  more,  their  adviser ;  for  the  muzhiks  had  faith  in  him, 
and  came  to  him  from  forty  versts  around  to  ask  his  opinions. 
But  to  say  that  he  knew  the  peasantry,  would  have  meant,  in 
his  opinion,  the  same  as  to  say,  that  he  knew  people. 

In  the  discussions  which  arose  between  the  brothers  in 
consequence  of  their  divergence  of  views,  the  victory  always 
remained  with  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  because  his  opinions,  formed 
by  his  methodical  studies,  remained  unshaken  ;  while  Kon- 
stantin,  ceaselessly  modifying  his,  was  easily  convicted  of 
contradicting  himself.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  looked  upon  his 
brother  as  an  excellent  fellow,  whose  heart  was  bien  plac6, 
as  he  expressed  it  in  French,  but  whose  mind,  though  quick 
and  active,  was  full  of  non  sequiturs.  Often,  with  the  con- 
descension of  an  elder  brother,  he  tried  to  make  him  see  the 
real  meaning  of  things  ;  but  he  could  not  take  genuine  pleas- 
ure in  discussing  with  him,  because  his  opponent  was  so  easy 
to  vanquish. 

Konstautin  Levin,  on  his  side,  looked  upon  his  brother  as 
a  man  of  vast  intelligence  and  learning,  endowed  with  ex- 
traordiuaiy  faculties,  most  advantageous  to  the  community 
at  large ;  but  as  he  advanced  in  life,  and  learned  to  know 
him  better,  he  sometimes  asked  himself,  in  the  secret  cham- 
bers of  his  heart,  if  this  devotion  to  the  general  interests, 
which  he  himself  seemed  to  lack,  was  really  a  good  quality, 
or  rather  a  vice  ;  not  through  the  powerlessness  of  good-na- 
tured, upright,  benevolent  wishes  and  motives,  but  the  pow- 
erlessness of  a  strong  man  pushing  his  own  way  through  the 
multitudes  of  paths  which  life  offers  to  men,  and  resolved 
at  all  odds  to  delight  in  this,  and  to  follow  it  alone. 

Levin  felt  also  another  sort  of  constraint  in  his  relations 
with  his  brother  when  he  was  spending  the  summer  with 
him.  The  days  seemed  to  him  too  short  for  him  to  accom- 
plish all  that  he  wanted  to  do  and  to  superintend,  while  his 
brother  cared  to  do  nothing  but  take  his  ease.  Though  Ser- 
ge"i  Ivanovitch  was  not  writing,  his  mind  was  too  active  for 
him  not  to  need  some  one  to  whom  he  might  express  in  logi- 
cal and  elegant  form  the  ideas  which  occupied  him.  Kon- 
stautin was  his  habitual  and  favorite  auditor. 


ANNA  K  Alt  £  NINA.  253 

It  was  his  favorite  habit  to  lie  lazily  on  the  grass,  stretched 
out  at  full  length  in  the  sun,  and  to  talk. 

"You  can't  imagine,"  he  would  say,  "how  I  enjoy  this 
idleness.  I  have  not  an  idea  in  my  head :  it  is  empty  as  a 
shell." 

But  Konstantin  quickly  wearied  of  sitting  down  and  talk- 
ing about  trifles.  He  knew  that  in  his  absence  they  were 
spreading  the  manure  on  the  wrong  fields,  and  were  up  to 
God  knows  what  mischief,  and  he  felt  anxious  to  be  super- 
intending this  work  :  he  knew  that  they  would  be  taking  off 
the  irons  from  his  English  ploughs,  so  as  to  be  able  to  say 
that  they  were  not  as  good  as  the  primitive  arrangements  still 
used  by  his  neighbor  So-and-so. 

"  Don't  you  ever  get  weary  trotting  about  so  in  this 
heat?"  asked  Sergei  Ivanovitch. 

"  No.  Excuse  me  for  a  minute  :  I  must  run  over  to  the 
office,"  said  Levin  ;  and  he  hurried  across  the  field. 


II. 

EARLY  in  June,  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  the  old  nurse  and 
ekonomka  [housekeeper],  in  going  down  cellar  with  a  pot 
of  pickled  mushrooms,  slipped  on  the  staircase,  and  dislo- 
cated  her  wrist.  The  district  doctor,  a  loquacious  young 
medical  student  who  had  just  taken  his  degree,  came  and 
examined  the  arm,  declared  that  it  was  not  out  of  joint,  and 
applied  compresses  :  and  during  dinner,  proud  of  finding  him- 
self in  the  society  of  the  distinguished  Koznuishef,  he  began 
to  relate  all  the  petty  gossip  of  the  neighborhood ;  and,  in 
order  that  he  might  have  occasion  to  introduce  his  enlight- 
ened ideas,  he  began  to  complain  of  the  bad  state  of  things 
in  general. 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  listened  attentively.  Animated  by  the 
presence  of  a  new  hearer,  he  talked,  and  made  keen  and 
shrewd  observations,  which  were  received  by  the  young  phy- 
sician with  respectful  appreciation.  After  his  departure 
Koznuishef  was  left  in  that  rather  over-excited  frame  of 
mind  which,  as  his  brother  knew,  was  liable  in  his  case  to 
follow  a  lively  and  brilliant  conversation.  Immediately  after, 
he  took  a  fish-line  and  went  to  the  river.  He  was  very  fond 
of  fishing :  he  seemed  to  take  a  little  pride  in  allowing  that 
he  could  amuse  himself  with  such  a  puerile  amusement. 


254  ANNA   K All t NINA. 

Konstantin  was  intending  to  make  a  tour  of  inspection  across 
the  fields,  and  he  offered  to  take  his  brother  in  his  gig  as  far 
as  the  river. 

It  was  the  time  of  the  year  when,  the  summer  having  suffi- 
ciently gone,  the  amount  of  the  crops  can  be  judged,  and  the 
thoughts  of  the  coming  summer  begin  to  take  root.  The  ears 
of  corn,  now  full  and  still  green,  swing  lightly  in  the  breeze  ; 
the  oats  peep  irregularly  from  the  late-sown  fields  ;  the  wheat 
already  is  up,  and  hides  the  soil ;  the  odor  of  the  manure, 
heaped  in  little  hillocks  over  the  fields,  mingles  with  the  per- 
fume of  the  herbs,  which,  scattered  with  little  bunches  of 
wild  sorrel,  stretch  out  like  a  sea.  This  period  of  the  sum- 
mer is  the  lull  before  the  harvest,  that  great  event  which  the 
muzJiik  expects  each  year  with  eagerness.  The  crops  prom- 
ised to  be  superb ;  and  long,  bright  days  were  followed  by 
short  nights,  when  the  dew  lay  heavy  on  the  grass. 

To  reach  the  fields,  it  was  necessary  to  cross  the  woodland. 
Sergei  Ivanovitch  liked  this  dense  forest.  He  pointed  out 
to  his  brother,  as  they  rode  along,  an  old  linden  almost  in 
flower;  but  Konstantin,  who  did  not  himself  care  to  speak 
about  the  beauties  of  nature,  did  not  care  to  have  others 
speak  of  them.  Words,  he  thought,  spoiled  the  beauty  of 
the  thing  that  tbey  saw.  He  assented  to  what  his  brother 
said,  but  allowed  his  mind  to  concern  itself  with  other  things. 
After  they  left  the  wood,  his  attention  was  drawn  to  a  fallow 
field,  where  some  places  were  growing  yellow,  where  iu  others 
the  crop  was  being  gathered  and  garnered.  The  teh/eyas  were 
thronging  up  toward  the  field.  Levin  counted  them,  and 
was  satisfied  with  the  work  which  was  going  on.  His 
thoughts  were  diverted,  by  the  sight  of  the  fields,  to  the  seri- 
ous question  of  fertilizers,  which  he  always  had  particularly 
at  heart.  He  stopped  his  horse  when  they  reached  the 
meadow.  The  high,  thick  grass  was  still  damp  with  dew. 
Sergei  Ivanovitch  begged  his  brother,  in  order  that  he  might 
not  wet  his  feet,  to  drive  him  as  far  as  a  clump  of  laburnums 
near  which  perch  were  to  be  caught.  Though  he  disliked 
to  trample  down  his  grass,  he  drove  over  through  the  field. 
The  tall  grass  clung  round  the  horse's  legs,  and  the  seed  was 
dusted  on  the  wheels  of  the  little  gig. 

•*  Sergei  sat  down  under  the  laburnums,  and  cast  his  line. 
Though  he  caught  nothing,  he  was  undisturbed  in  spirits,  and 
the  time  that  his  brother  was  away  conversing  with  Famitch 
and  the  other  workmen  did  not  seem  irksome  to  hiui.  When 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  255 

his  brother  returned,  anxious  to  get  back  to  the  house  to  give 
some  orders,  Serg6i  was  sitting  calmly  looking  at  the  water 
and  the  sky  and  the  fields. 

"These  fields,"  he  said,  "are  heavenly.  They  always 
remind  me  of  an  enigma,  do  you  know? — '  The  grass  says  to 
the  river ' ' 

"  I  don't  know  any  such  riddle,"  interrupted  Koustantin 
in  a  melancholy  tone. 

III. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  was  thinking  about  you,"  said  Sergei 
Ivanovitch.  "It  is  not  well  at  all,  what  is  going  on  in  your 
district,  if  that  doctor  tells  the  truth  :  he  is  not  a  stupid  fel- 
low. And  I  have  told  you  all  along,  and  I  say  to-day,  you 
are  wrong  in  not  going  to  the  assembly  meetings,  to  know 
what  they  are  doing.  If  men  of  standing  don't  take  an  in- 
terest in  affairs,  God  knows  how  things  will  turn  out.  The 
taxes  we  pay  will  be  spent  in  salaries,  and  n6"t  for  schools, 
or  hospitals,  or  midwives,  or  pharmacies,  or  any  thing." 

"  But  I  have  tried  it,"  replied  Levin  faintly  and  unwill- 
ingly. "I  can't  do  any  thing.  What  is  to  be  done  about 
it?" 

"  Da  !  why  can't  you  do  any  thing?  I  confess  I  don't  un- 
derstand it.  I  cannot  admit  that  it  is  incapacity  or  lack  of 
intelligence  :  isn't  it  simply  laziness?  " 

"It  is  not  that,  or  the  first  or  the  second.  I  have  tried  it, 
and  I  am  sure  that  I  cannot  do  any  thing." 

Levin  was  not  paying  great  heed  to  what  his  brother  said, 
but  was  looking  intently  across  the  fields  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river.  He  saw  something  black,  but  he  could  not  make 
out  whether  it  was  only  a  horse,  or  his  prikashcliik  on  horse- 
back. 

"  Why  can't  you  do  any  thing?  You  make  an  experiment, 
and  it  does  not  turn  out  to  3'our  satisfaction,  and  you  give 
up.  Why  not  have  a  little  pride  about  you?  " 

"Pride ? "  said  Levin,  touched  to  the  quick  by  his  brother's 
reproach.  "  I  don't  see  what  that  has  to  do  with  it.  If  at 
the  university  they  had  told  me  that  others  understood  the 
integral  calculus,  but  I  did  not,  that  would  have  touched  my 
pride  ;  but  here  I  have  first  to  believe  in  the  value  of  these 
new  institutions." 

"  What !  do  you  mean  to  say  that  they  are  not  valuable?  " 


256  ANNA   KAEfiNINA. 

asked  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  piqued  because  his  brother  seemed 
to  attach  so  little  importance  to  his  words,  and  gave  him 
such  poor  attention. 

'•  It  seems  to  me  that  they  are  useless,  and  I  cannot  feel 
interested  in  what  yen  wish  me  to  do,"  replied  Levin,  who 
now  saw  that  the  black  speck  was  the  prikashchik<  and  that 
the  prikashchik  was  probably  taking  some  muzhiks  from  their 
work.  They  were  carrying  home  the  ploughs.  "•  Can  they 
have  finished  ploughing?"  he  asked  himself. 

"  Nu,  listen  !  one  thing,"  said  his  brother,  his  handsome, 
intellectual  face  growing  a  shade  darker.  "  There  are  limits 
to  every  thing.  It  is  very  fine  to  be  an  original  and  out- 
spoken man,  and  to  hate  falsehood,  —  all  that  I  know;  but 
the  fact  is,  that  what  you  say  has  no  sense  at  all,  or  has  a 
very  bad  sense.  Do  3-ou  really  think  it  idle  that  these  peo- 
ple, whom  you  love,  as  you  assert  "  — 

"I  never  asserted  any  such  thing,"  replied  Konstantin 
Levin. 

"That  these  people  should  perish  without  aid?  Coarse 
babki  [peasant-women]  act  as  midwives,  and  the  people  re- 
main in  ignorance,  and  are  at  the  mercy  of  every  letter- 
writer.  But  it  is  within  your  power  to  remedy  all  this  ;  and 
you  don't  assist  them,  because,  in  your  eyes,  it  is  not  worth 
while." 

And  Sergei  Ivanovitch  offered  him  the  following  dilem- 
ma :  — 

"  Either  3*ou  are  not  developed  sufficiently  to  do  all  that 
you  might  do,  or  you  do  not  care  to  give  up  your  love  of 
idleness,  or  your  vanity  :  I  don't  know  which." 

Konstantin  Levin  felt,  that,  if  he  did  not  wish  to  be  con- 
victed of  indifference  for  the  public  weal,  he  would  have 
to  make  a  defence  ;  and  this  was  vexatious  and  offensive  to 
him. 

"•  That  is  another  thing,"  he  said  testily.  "  I  do  not  see 
how  it  is  possible  ' '  — 

"  What!  impossible  to  give  medical  aid  if  the  funds  were 
watched  more  closely  ? ' ' 

'fc  Impossible  it  seems  to  me.  In  the  four  thousand  square 
versts  of  our  district,  with'our  floods,  snow-storms,  and  busy 
seasons,  I  don't  see  the  possibility  of  giving  public  medical 
aid.  Besides,  I  don't  much  believe  in  medicine,  anyway"  — 

"  Nu!  nonsense!  you  are  unjust.  I  could  name  you  a 
thousand  cases  —  aud  schools." 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  257 

"Why  schools?" 

"What  do  you  say?  Can  you  doubt  the  advantages  of 
education  ?  If  it  is  good  for  you,  why  not  for  others?  " 

Konstantiu  Levin  felt  that  he  was  pushed  to  the  wall ;  and, 
in  his  irritation,  against  his  will  he  revealed  his  real  reason 
for  his  indifference. 

"  Maybe  it  is  a  good  thing ;  but  why  should  I  put  myself 
out,  —  have  medical  dispensaries  located  which  I  never 
make  use  of,  or  schools  where  I  should  never  send  my  chil- 
dren, and  where  the  peasants  won't  send  their  children,  and 
where  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  wise  to  send  them,  anyway?" 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  for  a  moment  was  disconcerted  b}-  this 
sally  ;  and,  while  carefully  pulling  his  line  from  the  water, 
he  developed  another  line  of  attack. 

" Nu!  that  is  absurd,"  said  he  with  a  smile.  "In  the 
first  place,  the  dispensary  is  necessary.  Vot!  we  ourselves 
sent  for  the  zemski  doktor  for  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna." 

"  Nu!  I  believe  that  her  wrist  was  out  of  joint,  in  spite 
of  what  he  said." 

"  That  remains  to  be  proved.  In  the  next  place,  the 
iniizldk  who  can  read  is  a  better  workman,  and  more  useful 
to  you." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  replied  Konstantin  Levin  bluntly.  "Ask  any 
one  you  please,  they  will  tell  you  that  the  educated  muzhik 
is  less  valuable  as  a  laborer.  He  will  not  repair  the  roads  ; 
and,  when  they  build  bridges,  he  will  only  steal  the  planks." 

"  Now,  this  is  not  the  point,"  said  SergeM,  vexed,  because 
he  detested  contradiction,  and  this  way  of  leaping  from  one 
subject  to  another,  and  bringing  up  arguments  without  any 
apparent  connection.  "  The  question  is  this  :  Do  you  admit 
that  education  is  good  for  the  peasantry?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  Levin,  without  realizing  that  he  was  not 
speaking  the  thought  in  his  mind.  Instantly  he  perceived, 
that,  by  making  this  admission,  it  would  be  easy  to  convict 
him  of  speaking  nonsense.  How  it  would  be  brought  up 
against  him  he  did  not  know  ;  but  he  knew  that  he  would 
surely  be  shown  his  logical  inconsequence,  and  he  awaited  the 
demonstration.  It  came  much  sooner  than  he  expected. 

"If  you  admit  its  value,"  said  Sergei,  "then,  as  an 
honest  man,  you  cannot  refuse  to  delight  in  this  work,  and 
give  it  your  hearty  co-operation." 

"  But  I  still  do  not  admit  that  it  is  good,"  said  Konstantin 
Levin,  in  confusion. 


258  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

4 '  What  ?     But  you  just  said  ' '  — 

"  That  is,  I  don't  say  that  it  is  bad,  but  that  it  is  not  ad- 
visable." 

"  But  you  can't  know  this,  since  you  have  not  made  any 
effort  to  try  it." 

"  Nu!  I  admit  that  the  education  of  the  people  is  advanta- 
geous," said  Konstantin,  but  without  the  least  conviction, 
"but  I  don't  see  why  I  should  bother  myself  with  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Nu  !  if  we  are  going  to  discuss  the  question,  then  explain 
it  to  me  from  your  philosophical  point  of  view." 

"  I  don't  see  what  philosophy  has  to  do  here,"  retorted 
Sergei  Ivanovitch  in  a  tone  which  seemed  to  cast  some 
doubt  on  his  brother's  right  to  discuss  philosophy  ;  and  this 
nettled  him. 

"  That  is  why,"  said  he  warmly,  "  I  think  that  the  motive- 
power  in  all  our  actions  is  forever  personal  interest.  Now, 
I  see  nothing  in  our  provincial  institutions  that  contributes 
to  my  well-being.  The  roads  are  not  better,  and  cannot  be 
made  so.  My  horses  carry  me,  even  on  bad  roads.  The 
doctor  and  the  dispensary  are  no  use  to  me.  The  justice 
of  the  peace  does  me  no  good  :  I  never  went  to  him,  and 
never  expect  to.  The  schools  seem  to  me  not  only  useless, 
but,  as  I  have  said,  are  even  harmful ;  and  these  provincial 
institutions  oblige  me  to  pay  eighteen  kopeks  a  desyutin,  to 
go  to  the  city,  to  be  eaten  by  bugs,  and  to  hear  all  sorts  of 
vulgar  and  obscene  talk,  and  yet  do  not  in  any  way  affect  my 
personal  interests." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch  with  a  smile.  "  Our 
personal  interests  did  not  compel  us  to  work  for  the  emanci- 
pation of  the  serfs,  and  yet  we  accomplished  it." 

"  No,"  replied  Konstantin  with  still  more  animation  :  "  the 
emancipation  was  quite  another  affair.  It  was  for  personal 
interest.  We  wanted  to  shake  off  this  }-oke  that  hung  upon 
the  necks  of  all  of  us  decent  people.  But  to  be  a  member  of 
the  town  council ;  to  discuss  what  only  concerns  smiths,  and 
how  to  lay  sewer-pipes  in  streets  where  one  does  not  live ; 
to  be  a  juryman,  and  sit  in  judgment  on  a  muzhik  who 
has  stolen  a  ham  ;  to  listen  for  six  hours  to  all  sorts  of  rub- 
bish which  the  defendant  and  the  prosecutor  may  utter,  and, 
as  presiding  officer,  to  ask  my  old  friend,  the  half-idiotic 
Aloshka,  '  Do  you  plead  guilty,  Mr.  Accused,  of  having 
stolen  this  ham  ?  '  "  — 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  259 

And  Konstantin,  carried  away  by  his  subject,  enacted  the 
scene  between  the  president  and  the  half-idiotic  Aloshka. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  this  was  in  the  line  of  the  argument. 

But  Sergei  Ivauovitch  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

' '  Nu !  what  do  you  mean  by  this  ?  ' ' 

"  I  only  mean  that  I  will  always  defend  with  all  my  powers 
those  rights  which  touch  me, — my  interests;  that  when 
the  policemen  came  to  search  us  students,  and  read  our  let- 
ters, I  was  ready  to  defend  these  rights  with  all  my  might, 
to  defend  my  rights  to  instruction,  to  liberty.  I  am  inter- 
ested in  the  required  service  which  concerns  the  fate  of  my 
children,  of  my  brothers,  and  of  myself.  I  am  willing  to 
discuss  this  because  it  touches  me ;  but  to  deliberate  on  the 
employment  of  forty  thousand  rubles  of  district  money,  or 
to  judge  the  crack-brained  Aloshka,  I  won't  do  it,  and  I 
can't." 

Konstantin  Levin  discoursed  as  though  the  fountains  of  his 
speech  were  unloosed.  His  brother  was  quietly  amused. 

"  Supposing  to-morrow  you  were  arrested  :  would  you  pre- 
fer to  be  tried  by  the  old  '  criminal  court '  ?  " 

"  But  I  shall  not  be  arrested.  I  am  not  a  murderer,  and 
this  is  no  use  to  me.  Nu,  uzh!  "  he  continued,  again  jump- 
ing to  a  matter  entirely  foreign  to  their  subject,  "  our  pro- 
vincial institutions,  and  all  that,  remind  me  of  the  little  twigs 
which  on  Trinity  day  we  stick  into  the  ground,  to  imitate  a 
forest.  The  forest  has  grown  of  itself  in  Europe  ;  but  I  can- 
not on  my  soul,  have  any  faith  in  our  birch  sprouts,  or  water 
them." 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  again,  as  a 
sign  of  astonishment  that  birch  twigs  should  be  mingled  in 
their  discussion,  although  he  understood  perfectly  what  his 
brother  meant. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  he.     "  That  is  no  way  to  reason." 

But  Konstantin,  in  order  to  explain  his  self-confessed  lack 
of  interest  in  matters  of  public  concern,  continued,  — 

"  I  think  that  there  can  be  no  durable  activity  if  it  is  not 
founded  in  individual  interest :  this  is  a  general,  a  philo- 
sophical truth,"  said  he,  laying  special  emphasis  on  the  word 
"  philosophical,"  as  though  he  wished  to  show  that  he  also 
had  the  right,  as  well  as  any  one  else,  to  speak  of  philosophy. 

Again  Sergei  Ivanovitch  smiled.  '"  He  also,"  thought  he, 
"  has  his  owu  special  philosophy  for  the  benefit  of  his  incli- 
nations." 


260  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

"  Nu!  be  quit  of  philosophy,"  he  said.  "Its  chief  aim 
has  been  in  all  times  to  grasp  the  indispensable  bond  which 
exists  between  the  individual  and  the  public  interest.  But 
I  think  I  can  make  your  comparison  valid.  The  little  birch 
twigs  have  not  been  merely  stuck  in,  but  have  been  sowed, 
planted,  and  it  is  necessary  to  watch  them  carefulh'.  The 
only  nations  which  can  have  a  future,  the  only  nations 
which  deserve  the  name  of  historic,  are  those  which  feel 
the  importance  and  the  value  of  their  institutions,  and  prize 
them." 

And  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  the  better  to  show  his  brother  what 
a  mistake  he  had  made,  began  to  discuss  the  question  from 
an  historico-philosophical  point  of  view,  which  Konstantin 
was  by  no  means  able  to  appreciate. 

"  As  to  your  distaste  for  affairs,  excuse  me  if  I  refer  it 
to  our  Russian  indolence  and  gentility  [barstvo,  Russian 
rank]  ;  and  I  trust  that  this  temporary  error  will  pass 
away." 

Konstantin  was  silent.  He  felt  himself  routed  on  every 
side,  but  he  felt  also  that  his  brother  had  not  understood 
what  he  wished  to  say.  He  did  not  know  exactly  whether 
it  was  because  he  did  not  know  how  to  express  himself 
clearly,  or  because  his  brother  did  not  wish  to  understand 
him,  or  whether  he  could  not  understand  him.  He  did  not 
try  to  fathom  this  question  ;  but,  without  replying  to  his 
brother,  he  became  absorbed  in  entirely  different  thoughts, 
connected  with  his  own  work.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  reeled  in 
his  lines,  unhitched  the  horse,  and  they  drove  away. 


IV. 

THE  thought  which  absorbed  Levin  at  the  time  of  his  dis- 
cussion with  his  brother  was  this :  the  year  before,  he  had 
fallen  into  a  passion  with  his  overseer  one  day  when  they 
were  mowing,  and  to  calm  himself  he  had  taken  the  scythe 
from  a  muzhik,  and  begun  to  mow.  He  enjoyed  the  work 
so  much  that  he  had  tried  it  again  and  again.  He  mowed 
the  lawn  in  front  of  his  house,  and  promised  himself  that 
the  next  year  he  would  follow  the  same  plan,  and  spend 
whole  days  mowing  with  the  muzhiks. 

Since  his  brother's  arrival  he  had  asked  himself  the  ques- 
tion, Should  he  mow,  or  not?  He  had  scruples  about  leav- 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  261 

ing  his  brother  alone  for  an  entire  day,  and  he  was  afraid 
of  his  pleasantries  on  the  subject.  But  as  they  crossed  the 
field,  and  saw  the  mowing  already  begun,  he  decided  that 
he  would  mow.  After  his  vexatious  discussion  with  his 
brother,  he  remembered  his  project. 

"  I  must  have  some  physical  exercise,  or  my  character  will 
absolutely  spoil,"  he  thought,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  mow, 
no  matter  what  his  brother  or  his  servants  should  say. 

That  very  evening  Levin  went  to  the  office,  gave  some 
directions  about  the  work  to  be  done,  and  sent  to  the  village 
to  hire  some  mowers  for  the  morrow,  so  as  to  attack  his  field 
at  Kaliuovo,  which  was  the  largest  and  best. 

"Da!  send  my  scythe  over  to  Sef,  and  have  him  put  it 
in  order ;  perhaps  I  will  come  and  mow  too,"  said  he,  trying 
to  hide  his  confusion. 

The  prika*hchik  laughed,  and  said,  "  I  will  obey  you." 

Later,  at  the  tea-table,  Levin  said  to  his  brother,  "  It  seems 
like  settled  weather.  To-morrow  I  am  going  to  mow." 

"  I  like  to  see  this  work,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch. 

"  I  like  it  extremely,"  said  Levin.  "Last  year  I  myself 
mowed  with  the  muzhiks,  and  to-morrow  I  am  going  to  spend 
all  day  at  it." 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  raised  his  head,  and  gazed  with  aston- 
ishment at  his  brother. 

"  What  did  you  say?     Like  the  muzhiks,  all  day  long?" 

"  Certainty  :  it  is  very  enjoyable." 

"It  is  excellent  as  physical  exercise,  but  can  you  stand 
such  work?"  asked  Sergei,  without  meaning  to  say  any 
thing  ironical. 

"  I  have  tried  it.  At  first  it  is  hard  work,  but  afterwards 
you  get  used  to  it.  I  think  I  shall  not  leave  off  "  — 

"  Vot  kak!  but  tell  me,  how  do  the  muzhiks  look  at  it? 
Naturally  they  make  sport  because  the  barin  is  queer,  don't 
they?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  so;  but  this  is  such  pleasant  and  at 
the  same  time  hard  work,  that  they  don't  think  about  it." 

"  But  how  do  you  do  about  your  dinner?  They  could 
hardly  bi'ing  you  there  a  bottle  of  Lafitte  and  a  roast 
turkey." 

;  •  No  :  I  come  home  while  the  workmen  have  their  noon- 
ing." 

The  next  morning  Konstantin  Levin  got  up  earlier  than 
usual ;  but  his  duties  about  the  house  detained  him,  and  when 


262  ANNA   KAE&NINA. 

he  came  to  the  mowing-field  he  found  the  men  already  at 
work. 

The  field,  still  in  the  shade,  extended  to  the  foot  of  a  high 
hill,  and  a  part  was  already  mowed ;  and  Levin,  as  he  drew 
near,  could  see  the  long  wind-rows,  and  the  little  black  heaps 
of  kaftans  thrown  down  by  the  men  when  they  went  by  the 
first  time.  He  saw  also  the  band  of  muzhiks,  some  in  their 
kaftans,  some  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  moving  in  a  long  line, 
and  swinging  their  scythes  in  unison.  He  counted  forty-two 
men  of  them.  They  were  advancing  slowly  over  the  uneven 
bottom-land  of  the  field,  where  there  was  an  old  ditch. 
Many  of  them  Levin  knew.  The  old  round-shouldered 
Yermil  was  there  in  a  very  clean  white  shirt,  wielding  the 
scythe;  there  was  the  young  small  Vaska,  who  used  to  be 
Levin's  driver ;  there  was  Sef,  a  little  thin  old  muzhitchok, 
who  had  taught  him  how  to  mow.  He  was  cutting  a  wide 
swath  without  stooping,  and  easily  handling  his  scythe. 

Levin  dismounted  from  his  horse,  tied  her  near  the  road, 
and  went  across  to  Sef,  who  immediately  got  a  second  scythe 
from  a  clump  of  bushes. 

"  All  ready,  barin;  'tis  like  a  razor,  — cuts  of  itself,"  said 
Sef  with  a  smile,  taking  off  his  shapka,  and  handing  him  the 
scythe. 

Levin  took  it,  and  began  to  try  it.  The  haymakers,  having 
finished  their  line,  were  returning  one  after  the  other  on  their 
track,  covered  with  sweat,  but  gay  and  lively.  They  all 
stopped,  and  saluted  the  barin.  No  one  ventured  to  speak  ; 
but  at  last  a  wrinkled  old  man,  without  a  beard,  and  dressed 
in  a  sheepskin  jacket,  thus  addressed  him  :  — 

"  Look  here,  barin,  if  you  put  your  hand  to  the  work, 
you  must  not  quit  it,"  said  he  ;  and  Levin  heard  the  sound 
of  stifled  laughter  among  the  workmen. 

"  I  will  try  not  to  be  left  behind,"  he  said  as  he  took  his 
place  behind  Sef,  and  waited  for  the  signal  to  begin. 

"  'Tention  !  "  cried  the  starik. 

Sef  made  the  way,  and  Levin  followed  in  his  steps.  The 
grass  was  short  and  tough  ;  and  Levin,  who  had  not  mowed 
in  a  long  time,  and  was  constrained  by  the  watchful  eyes  of 
the  men,  at  first  made  very  bad  work  of  it,  though  he  swung 
the  scythe  energetically.  Voices  were  heard  behind  him  :  — 

"  He  does  not  hold  his  scythe  right :  the  sned  is  too  high. 
See  how  he  stoops,"  said  one. 

"  Bears  his  hand  on  too  much,"  said  another. 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  263 

' '  It  won 't  do  at  all :  it's  not  well, ' '  said  the  starik.  ' '  Look, 
he  goes  like  this  ;  swings  too  wide.  He'll  get  played  ont. 
The  master  is  trying  it  for  himself  as  hard  as  he  can,  but 
look  at  his  row !  For  such  work  my  brother  was  beaten 
once." 

The  grass  became  less  tough  ;  and  Levin,  listening  to  the 
remarks  without  replying,  and  doing  his  best  to  learn,  fol- 
lowed in  Sef's  footsteps.  Thus  they  went  a  hundred  steps. 
Sef  kept  on  without  any  intermission,  and  without  showing 
the  least  fatigue  ;  but  Levin  began  to  fear  that  he  could  not 
keep  it  up,  he  was  so  tired. 

He  was  just  thinking  that  he  should  have  to  ask  Sef  to  rest, 
when  the  muzhik  of  his  own  accord  halted,  bent  over,  and, 
taking  a  handful  of  grass,  began  to  wipe  his  scythe,  and  to 
turn  around.  Levin  straightened  himself  up,  and  with  a  sigh 
of  relief  looked  about  him.  Just  behind  was  a  peasant,  and 
he  was  evidently  tired  and  had  also' stopped.  Sef  whetted  his 
own  scythe  and  Levin's,  and  started  again. 

At  the  second  attempt  it  was  just  the  same.  Sef  ad- 
vanced a  step  at  every  swing  of  the  scythe.  Levin  followed 
him,  striving  not  to  fall  behind  ;  but  each  moment  it  came 
harder  and  harder.  But,  as  before,  just  as  he  believed  him- 
self at  the  end  of  his  forces,  Sef  stopped  and  rested. 

Thus  they  went  over  the  first  swath.  And  this  long  stretch 
was  very  hard  for  Levin  ;  but  afterwards,  when  the  work  began 
again,  Levin  had  no  other  thought,  no  other  desire,  than  to 
reach  the  other  end  as  soon  as  the  others.  He  heard  nothing 
but  the  swish  of  the  scythes  behind  him,  saw  nothing  but 
Sef's  straight  back  plodding  on  in  front  of  him,  and  the 
semicircle  described  in  the  grass,  which  fell  over  slowly, 
carrying  with  it  the  delicate  heads  of  flowers. 

Suddenly  he  felt  a  pleasant  sensation  of  coolness  on  his 
shoulders.  He  looked  up  at  the  sky  while  Sef  was  plying  the 
whetstone,  and  he  saw  a  heavy  black  cloud.  A  shower  had 
come,  and  a  heavy  rain  was  falling.  Some  of  the  muzhiks 
were  putting  on  their  kaftans:  others,  like  Levin  himself, 
were  glad  to  feel  the  rain  upon  their  shoulders. 

The  work  went  on  and  on.  Levin  absolutely  lost  all  idea 
of  time,  and  did  not  know  whether  it  was  early  or  late.  Though 
the  sweat  stood  on  his  face,  and  dropped  from  his  nose,  and 
all  his  back  was  wet  as  though  he  had  been  plunged  in  water, 
still  he  felt  very  good.  His  work  now  seemed  to  him  full  of 
pleasure.  It  was  a  state  of  unconsciousness  :  he  did  not  know 


264  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

what  he  was  doing,  or  how  much  he  was  doing,  or  how  the 
hours  and  moments  were  flying,  but  only  felt  that  at  this  time 
his  work  was  good,  and  equal  to  that  done  by  Sef. 

After  they  had  gone  over  the  field  one  more  time,  he 
started  to  turn  back  again  ;  but  Sef  halted,  and,  going  to  the 
stank,  whispered  something  to  him.  Then  the  two  studied 
the  sun.  "  What  are  they  talking  about?  and  why  don't  they 
keep  on?"  thought  Levin,  without  considering  that  the 
muzhiks  had  been  mowing  for  more  than  four  hours,  and  it 
was  time  for  them  to  eat  their  lunch. 

"  Breakfast,  barin,"  said  the  starik. 

"  So  late  already?     Nu!  breakfast,  then." 

Levin  gave  his  scythe  to  Sef,  and  together  with  the  muzhiks, 
who  were  going  to  their  kaftans  for  their  bread,  he  crossed 
the  wide  stretch  of  field,  where  the  mown  grass  lay  lightly 
moistened  by  the  shower,  and  went  to  his  horse.  Then  only 
he  perceived  that  he  had  made  a  false  prediction  about  the 
weather,  and  that  the  rain  would  wet  his  hay. 

"  The  hay  will  be  spoiled,"  he  said. 

"No  harm  done,  barin:  mow  in  the  rain,  rake  in  the 
sun,"  said  the  storik. 

Levin  unhitched  his  horse  and  went  home  to  take  coffee 
with  his  brother.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  had  just  got  up  ;  before 
he  was  dressed  and  down  in  the  dining-room,  Konstantiu  was 
back  to  the  field  again. 

V. 

AFTER  breakfast,  Levin,  in  returning  to  his  work,  took  his 
place  between  the  quizzical  starik,  who  asked  him  to  be  his 
neighbor,  and  a  young  muzhik  who  had  only  lately  been 
manied,  and  was  now  mowing  for  the  first  time.  The  starik 
mowed  straight  on,  with  long,  regular  strides  ;  and  the  swing- 
ing of  the  scythe  seemed  no  more  like  labor  than  the  swinging 
of  arms  when  walking.  His  well-whetted  scythe  cut,  as  it 
were,  of  its  own  energy  through  the  succulent  grass. 

Behind  Levin  came  the  young  Mishka.  His  pleasant, 
youthful  face  under  a  wreath  of  green  leaves,  which  bound 
his  curls,  worked  with  the  energy  that  employed  the  rest  of 
his  body.  But  when  any  one  looked  at  him,  he  would 
smile.  He  would  rather  die  than  confess  that  he  found  the 
labor  hard. 

The  labor  seemed  lighter  to  Levin  during  the  heat  of  the 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  265 

day.  The  sweat  in  which  he  was  bathed  refreshed  him  ;  and 
the  sun,  burning  his  back,  his  head,  and  his  arms  bared  to 
the  elbow,  gave  him  force  and  energy.  The  moments  of 
oblivion,  of  unconsciousness  of  what  he  was  doing,  came 
back  to  him  more  and  more  frequently  :  the  scythe  seemed 
to  go  of  itself.  These  were  happy  moments.  Then,  still 
more  gladsome  were  the  moments  when,  coming  to  the  river- 
side, the  starik,  wiping  his  scythe  with  the  moist,  thick  grass, 
rinsed  the  steel  in  the  river,  then,  dipping  up  a  ladleful  of 
the  water,  gave  it  to  Levin. 

"  Nu-ka.  my  kvas!     Ah,  good  !"  he  exclaimed,  winking. 

And,  indeed,  it  seemed  to  Levin  that  he  had  never  tasted 
iiny  liquor  more  refreshing  than  this  pure,  lukewarm  water, 
in  which  grass  floated,  and  tasting  of  the  rusty  tin  cup. 
Then  came  the  glorious  slow  promenade,  when,  with  scythe 
on  the  arm,  there  was  time  to  wipe  the  heated  brow,  fill  the 
lungs  full,  and  glance  round  at  the  long  line  of  hay-makers, 
and  the  busy  life  in  field  and  forest. 

The  longer  Levin  mowed,  the  more  frequently  he  felt  the 
moments  of  oblivion,  when  his  hands  did  not  wield  the 
scythe,  but  the  scythe  seemed  to  have  a  self-conscious  body, 
full  of  life,  and  carrying  on,  as  it  were  by  enchantment,  a 
regular  and  systematic  work.  These  were  indeed  joyful 
moments.  It  was  hard  only  when  he  was  obliged  to  inter- 
rupt this  unconscious  activity  to  remove  a  clod  or  a  clump 
of  wild  sorrel.  The  starik  found  it  mere  sport.  When  he 
came  to  a  clod,  he  pushed  it  aside  with  repeated  taps  of  his 
scythe,  or  with  his  hand  tossed  it  out  of  the  way.  And 
while  doing  this  he  noticed  every  thing  and  examined  every 
thing  that  was  to  be  seen.  Now  he  picked  a  strawberry,  and 
ate  it  himself  or  gave  it  to  Levin  ;  now  he  discovered  a  nest 
of  quail  from  which  the  cock  was  scurrying  away,  or  caught 
a  snake  on  the  end  of  his  scythe,  and,  having  shown  it  to 
Levin,  flung  it  out  of  the  way. 

But  for  Levin  and  the  young  fellow  behind  him  these 
repeated  observations  were  difficult.  When  once  they  got 
into  the  swing  of  work,  they  could  not  easily  change  their 
movements,  and  turn  their  attention  to  what  was  before  them. 

Levin  did  not  realize  how  the  time  was  flying.  If  he  had 
been  asked  how  long  he  had  been  mowing,  he  would  have 
answered,  "  A  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  "  and  here  it  was  almost 
dinner-time.  The  starik  drew  his  attention  to  the  girls  and 
boys,  half  concealed  by  the  tall  grass,  who  were  coming  from 


266  ANNA   KAEtiNINA. 

all  sides,  bringing  to  the  hay-makers  their  bread  and  jugs  of 
/eyas,  which  seemed  too  heavy  for  their  little  arms. 

"See!  here  come  the  midgets"  [kozyavki,  lady  bugs], 
said  he,  pointing  to  them  ;  and,  shading  his  eyes,  he  looked  at 
the  sun. 

Twice  more  they  went  across  the  field,  and  then  the  starik 
stopped. 

"  Nu,  barin!  dinner,"  said  he  in  a  decided  tone. 

Then  the  mowers,  walking  along  the  river-side,  went  back 
to  their  kaftans,  where  the  children  were  waiting  with  the  din- 
ners. Some  clustered  around  the  telyegas;  others  sat  in  the 
shade  of  a  laburnum,  where  the  mown  grass  was  heaped  up. 

Levin  sat  down  near  them  :  he  had  no  wish  to  leave  them. 
All  constraint  in  the  presence  of  the  barin  had  disappeared. 
The  muzhiks  prepared  to  take  their  dinner.  They  washed 
themselves,  took  their  bread,  emptied  their  jugs  of  kvas,  and 
some  found  places  to  nap  in,  while  the  children  went  in 
swimming. 

The  starik  crumbed  his  bread  into  his  porringer,  mashed  it 
with  his  spoon,  poured  water  on  from  his  tin  basin,  and,  cut- 
ting off  still  more  bread,  he  salted  the  whole  plentifully  ;  and, 
turning  to  the  east,  he  said  his  prayer.  Then  he  invited 
Levin  :  — 

"  Nu-ka,  barin,  my  tiurki!"1  said  he,  kneeling  down 
before  his  porringer. 

Levin  found  the  tiurkii  so  palatable  that  he  decided  not  to 
go  home  to  dinner.  He  dined  with  the  starik,  and  their  con- 
versation turned  on  his  domestic  affairs,  in  which  the  barin 
took  a  lively  interest,  and  in  his  turn  told  the  old  man  about 
such  of  his  plans  and  projects  as  would  interest  him.  He 
felt  as  though  the  starik  were  more  nearly  related  to  him 
than  his  brother,  and  he  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  feeling 
of  sympathy  which  this  simple-hearted  man  inspired. 

When  dinner  was  over,  the  starik  offered  another  prayer, 
and  arranged  a  pillow  of  fresh-mown  grass,  and  composed 
himself  for  a  nap.  Levin  did  the  same  ;  and,  in  spite  of  the 
flies  and  insects  tickling  his  heated  face,  he  immediately 
went  off  to  sleep,  and  did  not  wake  until  the  sun  came  out 
on  the  other  side  of  the  laburnum  bush,  and  shone  brightly 
above  his  head.  The  starik  was  awake,  but  was  sitting 
down  cutting  the  children's  hair. 

1  Tiura,  diminutive  tiurka,  a  bread-crumb  soaked  in  kvas,  or  beer.  The  starik 
used  water  Instead  of  kvas. 


ANNA  KAKfiNINA.  267 

Levin  looked  around  him,  and  did  not  know  where  he  was. 
Every  thing  seemed  changed.  The  mown  field  stretched 
away  into  immensity  with  its  wind-rows  of  sweet-smelling  hay, 
lighted  and  glorified  in  a  new  fashion  by  the  oblique  rays  of 
the  sun.  The  bushes  had  been  cut  down  by  the  river:  and 
the  river  itself,  before  invisible,  but  now  shining  like  steel 
with  its  windings  ;  and  the  busy  peasantry  ;  and  the  high  wall 
of  grass,  where  the  field  was  not  yet  mowed  ;  and  the  young 
vultures  flying  high  above  the  field,  —  all  this  was  absolutely 
new  to  him. 

Levin  calculated  what  his  workmen  had  done,  and  what 
still  remained  to  do.  The  work  accomplished  by  the  forty- 
two  men  was  considerable.  The  whole  field,  which  in  the 
time  of  serfdom  used  to  take  thirty-two  men  two  days,  was 
now  almost  mowed  :  only  a  few  corners  with  short  rows  were 
left.  But  he  wanted  to  do  still  more  :  in  his  opinion,  the  sun 
was  sinking  too  early.  He  felt  no  fatigue :  he  only  wanted 
to  do  more  rapid,  and  if  possible  better,  work. 

tk  Do  you  think  we  shall  get  Mashkin  Hill  mowed  to-day?" 
he  demanded  of  the  starik. 

"  If  God  allows :  the  sun  is  still  high.  Will  there  be  little 
sips  of  vodka  for  the  boys  ?  ' ' 

At  supper-time,  when  the  men  rested  again,  and  some  of 
them  were  lighting  their  pipes,  the  starik  announced  to  the 
boys,  "  Mow  Mashkin  Hill  —  extra  vodka  !  " 

"  Eka!  Come  on,  Sef!  Let's  tackle  it  lively.  We'll 
eat  after  dark.  Come  on  !  "  cried  several  voices  ;  and,  even 
while  still  munching  their  bread,  they  got  to  work  again. 

"  Nu !  Oh,  keep  up  good  hearts,  boys!  "  said  Sef,  set- 
ting off  almost  on  the  run. 

"Come,  come!"  cried  the  starik,  hastening  after  them. 
"  I  am  first.  Look  out !  " 

Old  and  young  took  hold  in  rivalry  ;  and  yet  with  all  their 
haste,  they  did  not  spoil  their  work,  but  the  wind-rows  lay  in 
neat  and  regular  lines. 

The  triangle  was  finished  in  five  minutes.  The  last  mowers 
had  just  finished  their  line,  when  the  first,  throwing  their  kaf- 
tans over  their  shoulders,  started  down  the  road  to  the  hill. 

The  sun  was  just  going  behind  the  forest,  when,  with  rat- 
tling cans,  they  came  to  the  little  wooded  ravine  of  Mashkiu 
Verkh.  The  grass  here  was  as  high  as  a  man's  waist, 
tender,  succulent,  thick,  and  variegated  with  the  flower 
called  Ivan-da- Marya. 


268  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

After  a  short  parley,  to  decide  whether  to  take  it  across, 
or  lengthwise,  an  experienced  mower,  Prokhor  Yermilin,  a 
huge,  black-bearded  muzhik,  went  over  it  first.  He  took  it 
lengthwise,  and  came  back  in  his  track  ;  and  then  all  fol- 
lowed him,  going  along  the  hill  above  the  hollow,  and  skirt- 
ing the  wood.  The  sun  was  setting.  The  dew  was  already 
falling.  Only  the  mowers  on  the  ridge  could  see  the  sun  ; 
but  down  in  the  hollow,  where  the  mist  was  beginning  to  rise, 
and  behind  the  slope,  they  went  in  fresh,  dewy  shade.  The 
work  went  on.  The  grass  fell  in  high  heaps :  the  mowers 
came  close  together  as  the  rows  converged,  rattling  their 
drinking-cups,  sometimes  hitting  their  scythes  together, 
working  with  joyful  shouts,  rallying  each  other. 

Levin  still  kept  his  place  between  his  two  companions. 
The  starik,  with  sheepskin  vest  loosened,  was  gay,  jocose, 
free  in  his  movements. 

In  the  woods,  mushrooms  were  found  lurking  under  the 
leaves.  Instead  of  cutting  them  off  with  his  scythe,  as  the 
others  did,  he  bent  down  whenever  he  saw  one,  and,  picking 
it.  put  it  in  his  breast.  "  Still  another  little  present  for  my 
old  woman." 

The  tender  and  soft  grass  was  easy  to  mow,  but  it  was 
hard  to  climb  and  descend  the  steep  sides  of  the  ravine. 
But  the  slarik  did  not  let  this  appear.  Always  lightly  swing- 
ing his  scythe,  he  climbed  with  short,  firm  steps,  though  he 
trembled  all  over  with  the  exercise.  He  let  nothing  escape 
him,  not  an  herb  or  a  mushroom  ;  and  he  never  ceased  to 
joke  with  Levin  and  the  muzhiks.  Levin  behind  him  felt 
that  he  would  drop  at  every  instant,  and  told  himself  that  he 
should  never  climb,  scythe  in  hand,  this  steep  hillside,  where 
even  unencumbered  it  Avould  be  hard  to  go.  But  he  perse- 
vered all  the  same,  and  succeeded.  He  felt  as  though  some 
interior  force  sustained  him. 


VI. 

THEY  had  finished  mowing  the  Mashkin  Verkh :  the  last 
rows  were  done,  and  the  men  had  taken  their  kaftans,  and 
were  gaybj  going  home.  Levin  mounted  his  horse,  and  re- 
gretfully took  leave  of  his  companions.  On  the  hill-top  he 
turned  round  to  take  a  last  look  ;  but  the  evening's  mist, 
rising  from  the  bottoms,  hid  them  from  sight ;  but  he  could 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  269 

hear  their  hearty,  happy  voices,  as  they  laughed  and  talked, 
and  the  sound  of  their  clinking  scythes. 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  had  long  done  his  dinner,  and,  sitting  in 
his  room,  was  taking  iced  lemonade,  and  reading  the  papers 
and  reviews,  which  had  just  come  from  the  post,  when  Levin, 
with  matted  and  disordered  hair,  and  full  of  lively  talk, 
joined  him. 

"Well!  we  mowed  the  whole  field.  Ach!  How  good, 
how  delightful !  And  how  has  the  day  passed  with  you  ?  ' ' 
he  asked,  completely  forgetting  the  unpleasant  conversation 
of  the  evening  before. 

"  Bdt iusliki !  "  exclaimed  Serge"!  Ivanovitch,  looking  at 
first  not  over- pleasantly  at  his  brother.  "How  you  look! 
Dal  Shut  the  door,  shut  the  door !"  he  cried.  "You've 
let  in  more  than  a  dozen  !  " 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  could  not  endure  flies ;  and  he  never 
opened  his  bedroom  windows  before  evening,  and  he  made 
it  a  point  to  keep  his  doors  always  shut. 

"  Indeed,  not  a  one  !  If  you  knew  what  a  day  I  've  had  ! 
And  how  has  it  gone  with  you?  " 

"  First  rate.  But  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  have 
been  mowing  all  day?  You  must  be  hungry  as  a  wolf. 
Kuzma  has  your  dinner  all  ready  for  you." 

"  No  :  I  am  not  hungry.  I  ate  j'onder.  But  I'm  going  to 
have  a  bath." 

"jVu  /  go  ahead,  and  I'll  join  you,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch, 
lifting  his  head,  and  gazing  at  his  brother.  "  Hurry  up," 
he  said,  arranging  his  papers,  and  getting  ready  to  follow : 
he  also  felt  enlivened,  and  unwilling  to  be  away  from  his 
brother.  "  Nu  !  but  where  were  3*011  during  the  shower?" 

"  What  shower?  Only  a  drop  or  two  fell.  I'll  be  right 
back.  And  did  the  day  go  pleasantly  with  you?  Nu!  that's 
capital !  "  And  Levin  went  to  dress. 

About  five  minutes  afterwards  the  brothers  met  in  the 
dining-room.  Levin  imagined  that  he  was  not  hungry,  and 
he  sat  down  only  so  as  not  to  hurt  Kuzma's  feelings  ;  but 
when  he  once  got  to  eating,  he  found  it  excellent.  His 
brother  looked  at  him  with  a  smile. 

"Ach,  da!  there's  a  letter  for  you,"  he  said.  "Kuzma, 
go  and  get  it.  Da!  see  that  you  shut  the  door." 

The  letter  was  from  Oblonsky.  Levin  read  it  aloud.  It 
was  dated  from  Petersburg  :  — 

"I  have  just  heard  from  Dolly;  she  is  at  Yergushovo ; 


270  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

every  thing  is  going  wrong  with  her.  Please  go  and  see  her, 
and  give  her  your  advice, — you  who  know  every  thing.  She 
will  be  so  glad  to  see  you  !  She  is  all  alone,  wretched. 
Mother-in-law  is  abroad  with  the  family." 

••  Certainly  I  will  go  to  see  her,"  said  Levin.  "  Let  us 
go  together.  She  is  a  glorious  woman :  don't  you  think 
so?" 

"  And  they  live  near  you?  " 

"  About  thirty  versts,  possibly  forty.  But  there's  a  good 
road.  We  can  make  good  time." 

*'  Like  to  very  much,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch  enthusias- 
tically. The  sight  of  his  brother  irresistibly  filled  him  with 
happiness.  "Nu!  what  an  appetite  you  have!  "  he  added, 
as  he  saw  his  tanned,  sunburned,  glowing  face  and  neck,  as 
he  bent  over  his  plate. 

"  Excellent !  You  can't  imagine  how  this  sort  of  thing 
drives  all  foolish  thoughts  out  of  one's  head.  I  am  going  to 
enrich  medicine  with  a  new  term,  arbeitskur"  [labor-cure]. 

"  Nu!  you  don't  seem  to  need  it  much,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  Yes  :  it  is  a  sovereign  specific  against  nervous  troubles." 

"  It  must  be  looked  into.  I  was  coming  to  see  you  mow, 
but  the  heat  was  so  insupportable  that  I  did  not  go  farther 
than  the  wood.  I  rested  a  while,  and  then  I  went  to  the  vil- 
lage. I  met  your  nurse  there,  and  asked  her  what  the  mu- 
zhiks thought  about  you.  As  I  understand  it,  they  don't 
approve  of  you.  She  said,  'It  ain't  the  gentry's  work.' 
I  think  that,  as  a  general  thing,  the  peasantry  form  very 
definite  ideas  about  what  is  becoming  for  the  gentry  to  do, 
and  the}*  don't  like  to  have  them  go  outside  of  certain  fixed 
limits." 

"  Maybe  ;  but  I  never  enjoyed  any  thing  more  in  all  my 
life,"  he  said ;  "  and  I  did  not  do  anybody  any  harm,  did  I? 
And  suppose  it  doesn't  please  them,  what  is  to  be  done? 
Whose  business  is  it?  " 

"  Well,  I  see  you  are  well  satisfied  with  your  day,"  replied 
Sergei  Ivanovitch. 

"Very  well  satisfied.  We  finished  the  whole  field;  and  I 
got  so  well  acquainted  with  the  starik!  you  can't  imagine 
how  he  pleased  me." 

lkNii!  you  are  satisfied  with  your  day!  So  am  I  with 
mine.  In  the  first  place,  I  solved  two  chess  problems, 
and  one  was  a  beauty.  I'll  show  it  to  you.  And  then  — 
I  thought  of  our  last  evening's  discussion." 


ANNA   K AH  £  NINA.  271 

"What?  Our  last  evening's  discussion?"  said  Levin, 
half  closing  his  eyes,  with  a  sensation  of  comfort  and  ease 
after  his  dinner,  and  entirely  unable  to  recollect  the  subject 
of  their  discussion. 

"  I  come  to  the  conclusion  that  you  are  parti}'  in  the  right. 
The  discrepancy  in  our  views  lies  in  the  fact  that  you  assume 
personal  interest  as  the  moving  power  of  our  actions,  while 
I  claim  that  every  man  who  has  reached  a  certain  stage  of 
intellectual  development  must  have  for  his  motive  the  public 
interest.  But  you  are  probably  right  in  saying  that  personal 
action,  material  activity,  is  concerned  in  these  matters.  Your 
nature  is,  as  the  French  say.  primesauti&re  [off-hand].  You 
want  strong,  energetic  activity,  or  nothing." 

Levin  listened  to  his  brother ;  but  he  did  not  understand 
him  at  all,  and  did  not  try  to  understand.  He  feared,  how- 
ever, that  his  brother  would  ask  him  some  question  by  which 
it  would  become  evident  that  he  was  not  listening. 

"How  is  this,  dntzhok?"  [little  friend],  asked  Sergei 
Ivanovitch,  taking  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"Z)a/  of  course.  But,  then,  I  don't  set  much  store  on 
my  own  opinions,"  replied  Levin,  smiling  like  a  child,  con- 
scious of  naughtiness.  His  thought  was,  "What  was  our 
discussion  about?  Of  course;  and  I  am  right,  and  he  is 
right,  and  all  is  charming.  But  I  must  go  to  the  office,  and 
give  my  orders."  He  arose  and  stretched  himself. 

"  If  you  want  to  go  out,  let's  go  together,"  he  said :  "  if 
you  must  go  to  the  office,  I'll  go  with  you." 

"  Ach,  bdtiushki!"  exclaimed  Levin  so  bruskly,  that  his 
brother  was  startled. 

"  What's  the  matter?" 

"  Agafya  Mikhailovna's  hand,"  said  Levin,  striking  his 
forehead.  "  I  had  forgotten  all  about  her." 

'•She  is  much  better." 

"  Nn!  still,  I  must  go  to  her.  I'll  be  back  before  you  get 
on  your  hat." 

And  he  started  to  run  down-stairs,  his  heels  clattering  on 
the  steps. 

VII. 

WHILE  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  off  to  Petersburg,  to  fulfil 
the  duty  so  natural  and  unquestionable  to  functionaries,  how- 
ever other  people  may  look  upon  it,  of  reporting  to  the  min- 


272       9  ANNA  KAK&NINA. 

istiy,  and  at  the  same  time,  being  well  supplied  with  mone}*, 
was  read}*  to  enjoy  himself  at  the  races,  and  his  friends1 
datchas,  Dolly,  with  the  children,  was  on  her  way  to  the 
country,  in  order  to  reduce  the  expenses  as  much  as  possible. 
She  was  going  to  their  country-place  at  Yergushovo,  an  es- 
tate which  had  been  a  part  of  her  dowry.  It  was  where  the 
wood  had  been  sold  in  the  spring,  and  was  situated  about 
fifty  versts  from  Levin's  Pokrovsky. 

The  old  seignorial  mansion  of  Yergushovo  had  long  been 
in  ruins,  and  the  prince  had  contented  himself  with  enlarging 
and  repairing  one  of  the  L's.  Twenty  years  before,  when 
Dolly  was  a  little  girl,  this  L  was  spacious  and  comfortable, 
though,  in  the  manner  of  all  L's,  it  was  built  across  the  ave- 
nue, and  towards  the  south.  But  now  it  was  old,  and  out 
of  repair.  When  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  went  in  the  spring 
to  sell  the  wood,  his  wife  begged  him  to  give  a  glance  at  the 
house,  and  have  it  made  habitable.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
like  the  guilty  husband  that  he  was,  feeling  desirous  of  mak- 
ing his  wife's  material  existence  as  comfortable  as  possible, 
made  haste  to  have  the  furniture  covered  with  cretonne,  to 
hang  curtains,  to  clear  up  the  garden,  to  plant  flowers,  and 
to  build  a  bridge  across  the  pond ;  but  he  had  overlooked 
many  more  essential  matters,  and  Daiya  Aleksaudrovna  was 
not  slow  to  complain  about  it. 

Although  Stepan  was  a  solicitous  husband  and  a  father, 
he  was  constantly  forgetting  that  he  had  a  wife  and  children, 
and  his  tastes  remained  those  of  a  bachelor.  When  he  got 
back  to  Moscow  he  took  great  pride  in  assuring  his  wife  that 
every  thing  was  in  prime  order,  that  he  had  arranged  the 
house  to  perfection,  and  he  advised  her  strongly  to  go  there 
immediately.  This  emigration  suited  him  in  many  ways : 
the  children  would  enjoy  the  country,  expenses  would  be 
lessened,  and  last,  and  most  essential,  he  would  be  freer. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna,  on  her  part,  felt  that  it  would  be  a 
good  thing  to  take  the  children  away  after  the  scarlatina, 
for  the  youngest  little  girl  gained  very  slowly.  Moreover, 
she  would  be  freed  from  the  importunities  of  the  butcher,  the 
fish-dealer,  and  the  baker,  which  troubled  her.  And  finally 
the  happy  thought  occurred,  to  invite  her  sister  Kitty,  who 
was  coming  home  from  abroad  about  the  middle  of  the  sum- 
mer, and  had  been  advised  to  take  some  cold  baths.  Kitty 
wrote  her  that  nothing  would  delight  her  so  much  as  to  spend 
the  rest  of  the  summer  with  her  at  Yergushovo,  that  place 


ANNA    KARtixIXA.  273 

that  was  so  full  of  happy  childhood  memories  for  both  of 
them. 

The  first  part  of  the  time  the  country  life  was  very  tire- 
some to  Dolly.  .She  had  lived  there  when  she  was  a  child. 
Mewed  in  the  light  of  early  recollections,  she  had  expected 
it  to  be  a  refuge  from  all  the  trials  of  city  life,  and  if  it  was 
not  very  gay  or  elegant,  —  and  she  hardly  expected  to  find  it 
so,  —  at  least,  it  would  be  comfortable  and  inexpensive,  and 
the  children  would  be  happy.  But  now,  when  she  came  there 
as  mistress  of  the  house,  she  found  things  contrary  to  her 
expectations. 

On  the  morning  after  their  arrival,  it  began  to  rain  in  tor- 
rents. The  roof  was  leaking  ;  and  the.  water  dripped  in  the 
corridor  and  the  nursery,  and  the  little  beds  had  to  be 
brought  down  into  the  parlor.  It  was  impossible  to  find  a 
cook.  Among  the  nine  cows  in  the  barn,  according  to  the 
dairy-woman's  report,  some  were  going  to  calve,  and  the 
rest  were  either  too  young  or  too  old,  and  consequently  they 
could  not  have  butter,  or  even  milk  for  the  children.  Not  an 
egg  was  to  be  had.  It  was  impossible  to  find  a  hen.  They 
had  for  roasting  or  broiling,  only  tough  old  purple  roosters. 
No  babui  were  to  be  found  to  do  the  washing  —  all  were  at 
work  in  the  fields.  They  could  not  drive,  because  one  of  the 
horses  was  balk}*,  and  wouldn't  be  harnessed.  The}'  had  to 
give  up  bathing,  because  the  bank  of  the  river  had  been  trod- 
den into  a  quagmire  by  the  cattle,  and,  moreover,  it  was  too 
conspicuous.  Walking  near  the  house  was  not  pleasant,  be- 
cause the  tumble-down  fences  let  the  cattle  into  the  garden, 
and  there  was  in  the  herd  a  terrible  bull  which  bellowed,  and 
was  reported  to  be  ugly.  In  the  house,  there  was  not  a 
clothes-press.  The  closet-doors  either  would  not  shut,  or 
flew  open  when  any  one  passed.  In  the  kitchen,  there  were 
no  pots  or  kettles.  In  the  laundry,  there  were  no  tubs,  or 
even  any  scrubbing-boards  for  the  girls. 

At  first,  therefore,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  not  finding  the 
rest  and  peace  which  she  expected,  fell  into  despair.  Real- 
izing her  helplessness  in  such  a  terrible  situation,  she  could 
not  keep  back  her  tears.  The  overseer,  formerly  a  sergeant 
[vakhmistr'],  who,  on  account  of  his  fine  presence,  had  been 
promoted  by  Stepau  Arkadyevitch  from  his  place  as  Swiss, 
made  no  account  of  Darya  Aleksandrovna's  tribulations,  but 
simply  said  in  his  respectful  wa\*,  "Can't  find  anybody,  the 
peasantry  are  so  beastly  ! "  and  would  not  stir. 


274  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

The  situation  seemed  hopeless  ;  but  in  the  Oblonsky  house- 
hold, as  in  all  well-regulated  homes,  there  was  one  humble, 
but  still  important  and  useful,  member,  Matriona  Filimon- 
ovna.  She  calmed  the  baruina,  telling  her  that  all  would 
come  out  right,  —  that  was  her  favorite  expression,  and 
Matve"  had  borrowed  it  from  her,  —  and  she  went  to  work 
without  fuss  and  without  bother. 

She  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  prikashckilc's  wife, 
and  on  the  very  day  of  their  arrival  went  to  take  tea  with 
her  under  the  acacias,  and  discussed  with  her  the  ways  and 
means  of  the  household.  A  sort  of  club,  composed  of 
Matrioua  Filimonovna,  together  with  the  prikashchik' s  wife, 
the  stdrosta  [bailiff],  and  the  book-keeper,  was  formed  un- 
der the  trees  ;  and  through  their  deliberations,  the  difficulties, 
one  by  one,  disappeared,  and  every  thing,  as  Matriona  said, 
u  came  out  all  right."  The  roof  was  patched  up;  a  cook 
was  found  in  a  friend  of  the  starosta's  wife  ;  chickens  were 
bought ;  the  cows  began  to  give  milk  ;  the  garden-fence  was 
repaired  ;  the  carpenter  drove  in  hooks,  and  put  latches  on  the 
closets,  so  that  they  would  not  keep  flying  open  ;  the  laundry 
was  set  to  rights  ;  and  the  ironing-board,  covered  with  sol- 
diers' cloth,  was  extended  from  the  dresser  across  the  back 
of  a  chair,  and  the  smell  of  the  ironing  came  up  from  below. 

"JVw,  vot !  "  said  Matriona  Filimonovna,  pointing  to  the 
ironing-board.  "  There  is  no  need  of  worrying." 

They  even  went  so  far  as  to  build  a  board  bath-house  on 
the  river-bank,  so  that  Lili  could  bathe.  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna's  hope  of  a  comfortable,  if  not  a  peaceful,  country 
life  became  almost  realized.  Peaceful  life  was  impossible 
to  her  with  six  children.  If  one  had  an  ill  turn,  another  was 
sure  to  follow  suit,  and  something  would  happen  to  a  third, 
and  the  fourth  would  show  signs  of  a  bad  character,  and  so 
it  always  was.  Rarely,  rarely  came  even  short  periods  of 
rest.  But  these  very  anxieties  and  troubles  were  the  only 
chances  of  happiness  that  Darya  Aleksandrovna  had.  If 
she  had  been  shut  off  from  this  resource,  she  would  have 
been  a  prey  to  her  thoughts  about  a  husband  who  no  longer 
loved  her.  Besides,  these  same  children,  who  worried  her 
with  their  little  illnesses  and  faults,  drove  away  her  sorrows 
by  their  pleasures  and  enjoyments.  Her  joys  were  so  small, 
that  they  were  almost  invisible,  like  gold  in  sand  ;  and  in 
trying  hours  she  saw  only  the  sorrows,  the  sand :  but  there 
were  also  happy  moments,  when  she  saw  only  the  joys,  the 


ANNA   KARlSNINA.  275 

gold.  In  the  quiet  of  the  country,  her  joys  became  more  and 
more  frequent.  Often,  as  she  looked  upon  her  little  flock, 
she  accused  herself  of  a  mother's  partiality,  but  she  could 
not  help  admiring  them  ;  she  could  not  keep  from  saying 
to  herself,  that  it  was  rare  to  meet  such  beautiful  children, 
all  six  charming  -in  their  own  ways ;  and  she  rejoiced  in 
them,  and  was  proud  of  them. 


VIII. 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  Maj%  when  every  thing  was  beginning 
to  improve,  she  received  her  husband's  reply  to  her  com- 
plaints about  her  domestic  tribulations.  He  wrote,  asking 
pardon  because  he  had  not  remembered  every  thing,  and 
promised  to  come  just  as  soon  as  he  could.  This  had  not 
yet  come  to  pass  ;  and  at  the  end  of  June,  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna  was  still  living  alone  in  the  countiy. 

On  Sunday,  during  the  fast  of  St.  Peter,  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna  took  all  her  children  to  the  holy  communion.  In  her 
intimate  philosophical  discussions  with  her  sister,  her  mother, 
or  her  friends,  she  sometimes  surprised  them  by  the  breadth 
of  her  views  on  religious  subjects.  She  had  gone  through 
strange  religious  metempsychoses,  and  had  come  out  into  a 
faith  which  had  very  little  in  common  with  ecclesiastical 
dogmas ;  yet  Dolly  herself  conformed  strictly  to  all  the 
obligations  of  the  church,  and  obliged  her  family  to  do  the 
same.  She  not  only  wished  to  let  her  example  tell,  but  she  | 
felt  it  as  a  need  of  her  soul.  And  now  she  was  blaming! 
herself  because  her  children  had  not  been  to  communion 
since  the  beginning  of  the  year,  and  she  resolved  to  ac- 
complish this  duty. 

For  several  days  she  had  been  deciding  what  the  children 
should  wear :  and  now  their  dresses  were  arranged,  all  clean 
and  in  order  ;  flutings  and  flounces  were  added,  new  buttons 
were  put  on,  and  ribbons  were  gathered  in  knots.  Only  Tania's 
dress,  which  had  been  intrusted  to  the  English  governess,  was 
a  source  of  anger  to  Dolly :  the  English  governess,  sewing  it 
over  again,  put  the  seams  across  the  shoulders  in  the  wrong 
place,  made  the  sleeves  too  short,  and  spoiled  the  whole  gar- 
ment. Tania  was  a  sight  to  see,  so  badly  did  the  dress  fit 
her.  Fortunately,  it  occurred  to  Matriona  Filimonovna  to 
set  gores  into  the  waist,  and  to  put  on  a  collar.  The  harm 


276  ANNA   KAKtiNINA. 

was  repaired,  but  they  narrowly  escaped  a  quarrel  with  the 
English  governess. 

All  was  now  in  readiness  ;  and  about  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  —  for  that  was  the  hour  that  the  priest  had  set  for 
the  communion,  —  the  children,  radiant  with  joy,  were  gath- 
ered on  the  steps  before  the  two-seated  drozhky  waiting  for 
their  mother.  Thanks  to  Matriona  Filimonovna's  watchful 
care,  in  place  of  the  restive  horse,  the  prikasJiclik's  stallion 
had  been  harnessed  to  the  clrozhky.  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
appeared  in  a  white  muslin,  and  got  into  the  carriage. 

She  had  taken  considerable  pains  with  her  toilet,  and  had 
dressed  with  care  and  emotion.  In  former  times  she  had 
liked  to  dress  well  for  the  sake  of  being  handsome  and  at- 
tractive ;  but  as  she  got  along  in  life,  she  lost  her  taste  for 
affairs  of  the  toilet,  because  it  made  her  realize  how  her 
beauty  had  faded.  But  to-day  she  once  more  took  especial 
pains  to  improve  her  personal  appearance.  But  she  did  not 
dress  for  her  own  sake,  or  to  enhance  her  beauty,  but  so 
that,  as  mother  of  these  lovely  children,  she  might  not  spoil 
the  impression  of  the  whole  scene.  And  as  she  cast  a  final 
glance  at  the  mirror,  she  was  satisfied  with  herself.  She  was 
beautiful,  —  not  beautiful  in  the  same  way  as  once  she  liked 
to  be  at  the  ball,  but  by  reason  of  the  purpose  which  inspired 
her. 

There  was  no  one  at  church  except  the  muzhiks  and  the 
household  servants ;  but  she  noticed,  or  thought  she  noticed, 
the  attention  that  she  and  her  children  attracted  as  the}'  went 
along.  The  children  were  handsome  in  their  nicely  trimmed 
dresses,  and  still  more  charming  in  their  behavior.  Little 
Alosha,  to  be  sure,  was  not  absolutely  satisfactory  :  he  kept 
turning  round,  and  trying  to  look  at  the  tails  of  his  little  coat, 
but  nevertheless  he  was  wonderfully  pretty.  Tania  behaved 
like  a  little  lady,  and  looked  after  the  younger  ones.  But 
Lili,  the  smallest,  was  fascinating  in  her  na'ive  delight  at 
every  thing  that  she  saw  ;  and  it  was  hard  not  to  smile  when, 
after  she  had  received  the  communion,  she  cried  out,  "•  Please, 
some  more! " 

After  they  got  home,  the  children  felt  the  consciousness 
that  something  solemn  had  taken  place,  and  were  very  quiet 
and  subdued.  All  went  well  in  the  house,  till  at  lunch 
Grisha  began  to  whistle,  and,  what  was  worse  than  all,  re- 
fused to  obey  the  English  governess  ;  and  he  was  sent  away 
without  any  tart.  Darya  Aleksandrovna  would  not  have  al- 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  277 

lowed  any  punishment  on  such  a  day  if  she  had  been  there ; 
but  she  was  obliged  to  uphold*  the  governess,  and  confirm  her 
in  depriving  Grisha  of  the  tart.  This  was  a  cloud  on  the 
general  happiness. 

Grisha  began  to  cry,  saying  that  Nikolinka  also  had 
whistled,  but  they  did  not  punish  him  ;  and  that  he  was  not 
crying  about  the  tart,  —  that  was  no  account,  —  but  because 
they  had  not  been  fair  to  him.  This  was  very  disagreeable  ; 
and  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  after  a  consultation  with  the  Eng- 
lish governess,  decided  to  reason  with  Grisha,  and  went  to 
get  him.  But  then,  as  she  went  through  the  hall,  she  saw  a 
scene  that  brought  such  joy  to  her  heart,  that  the  tears  came 
to  her  eyes,  and  she  herself  forgave  the  culprit. 

The  little  fellow  was  sitting  in  the  drawing-room  by  the 
bay-window:  near  him  stood  Tania  with  a  plate.  Under 
the  pretext  of  wanting  some  dessert  for  her  dolls,  she  had 
asked  the  English  governess  to  let  her  take  her  portion  of 
the  pie  to  the  nursery  ;  but  instead  of  this,  she  had  taken  it 
to  her  brother.  Grisha,  still  sobbing  over  the  unfairness  of 
his  punishment,  was  eating  the  pie,  and  saying  to  his  sister 
in  the  midst  of  his  tears,  "Take  some  too:  we  will  eat  to 
—  together." 

Tauia,  full  of  sympathy  for  her  brother,  and  with  the  sym- 
pathy of  having  done  a  generous  action,  was  eating  her  part 
with  tears  in  her  eyes.  When  they  saw  their  mother,  they 
were  scared,  but  they  felt  assured  by  the  expression  of  her 
face,  that  the}'  were  doing  right :  they  ran  to  her  with  their 
mouths  still  full  of  pie,  began  to  kiss  her  hands  with  their 
laughing  lips,  and  their  shining  faces  were  stained  with  tears 
and  jam. 

"Mdtiushki!  my  new  white  dress!  Tania!  Grisha!" 
exclaimed  the  mother,  endeavoring  to  save  her  dress,  but 
at  the  same  time  smiling  at  them  with  a  happy,  beatific 
smile.  • 

Afterwards  the  new  dresses  were  taken  off,  and  the  girls 
put  on  their  frocks,  and  the  boys  their  old  jackets ;  and  the 
lineika  [two-seated  drozhky']  was  brought  out  again,  to  the 
wrath  of  the  prikashchik,  whose  stallion  was  put  at  the  pole  ; 
and  they  started  with  joyful  cries  and  shouts  out  after  mush- 
rooms, and  to  have  a  bath. 

They  soon  filled  a  basket  with  mushrooms  :  even  Lili  found 
one.  Always  before  Miss  Hull  had  been  obliged  to  find  them 
for  her ;  but  now  she  herself  found  a  huge  birch  shliupik,  and 


278  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

there  was  a  universal  cry  of  enthusiasm,  "  Lili  has  found  a 
shliupik  ! ' ' 

Afterwards  they  came  to  the  river,  fastened  the  horses  to 
the  birch-trees,  and  had  their  bath.  The  coachman,  Terenti, 
leaving  the  animals  to  switch  away  the  flies  with  their  tails, 
stretched  himself  out  on  the  grass  in  the  shade  of  the  birches, 
and  lighted  his  pipe,  and  listened  to  the  shouts  and  laughter 
of  the  children  in  the  bath-house. 

Although  it  was  rather  embarrassing  to  look  after  all  these 
children,  and  to  keep  them  from  mischief  ;  though  it  was  hard 
to  remember,  and  not  mix  up  all  these  stockings,  shoes,  and 
trousers  for  so  many  different  legs,  and  to  untie,  unbutton, 
and  then  fasten  again,  so  many  strings  and  buttons,  —  still 
Darya  Aleksandrovna  always  took  a  lively  interest  in  the 
bathing,  looking  upon  it  as  advantageous  for  the  children, 
and  never  feeling  happier  than  when  engaged  in  this  occupa- 
tion. To  fit  the  stockings  on  these  plump  little  legs  ;  to  take 
them  by  the  hand,  and  dip  their  naked  little  bodies  into  the 
water;  to  hear  their  cries,  now  joyful,  now  terrified  ;  to  see 
these  eyes  shining  with  joy  and  excitement,  these  splashing 
chei-itbimtchiks,  — was  to  her  a  perfect  delight. 

When  the  children  were  about  half  dressed,  the  peasant- 
women,  in  Sunday  attire,  came  along,  and  stopped  timidly 
at  the  bath-house.  Matriona  Filimonovna  hailed  one  of 
them,  in  order  to  give  her  some  of  the  shirts  to  dry  that  had 
fallen  into  the  river  ;  and  Darya  Aleksandrovna  talked  with 
the  babui.  At  first  they  laughed  behind  their  hoods,  and 
did  not  understand  her  questions  ;  but  little  by  little  their 
courage  returned,  and  they  quite  won  Darya  Aleksandrovna's 
heart  by  their  sincere  admiration  of  the  children. 

"  Ish  tui!  ain't  she  lovely,  now?  White  as  sugar  !  "  said 
one,  pointing  to  Tania,  and  nodding  her  head.  "But  thin "  — 

"  Yes  :  been  sick." 

"  LT)ok  you,"  said  still  another,  pointing  to  the  youngest. 

"  You  don't  take  him  in?  " 

"  No,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna  proudly.  "  He  is  only 
three  months  old." 

"  You  don't  say  !  "     ["/s/i  tui!  "] 

"  And  have  you  children?  " 

"Had  four;  two  alive,  boy  and  girl.  I  weaned  the  last 
before  Lent. 

"How  old  is  he?" 

4 '  Da  !    Second  y ear . " 


ANNA  KAlifiNINA.  *        279 

"  And  do  yon  nnrse  him  so  long?  " 

"  It's  our  way  :  three  springs." 

And  then  the  bab«  asked  Darya  Aleksandrovna  about  her 
children  and  their  illness  ;  where  was  her  husband  ?  would 
she  see  him  often  ? 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  found  the  conversation  with  the 
babui  so  interesting,  that  she  did  not  want  to  say  good-by 
to  them.  And  it  was  pleasant  to  her,  to  see  how  evidently 
all  these  women  looked  with  admiration,  because  she  had  so 
many  and  such  lovely  children.  The  babui  made  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  laugh,  and  piqued  Miss  Hull  because  she  was 
evidently  the  cause  of  their  unaccountable  laughter.  One  of 
the  3'oung  women  gazed  with  all  her  eyes  at  Miss  Hull,  who 
was  dressing  last ;  and,  when  she  put  on  the  third  petticoat, 
she  could  not  restrain  herself  any  longer,  but  burst  out 
laughing.  "  Ish  tuil  she  put  on  one,  and  then  she  put  on 
another,  and  she  hasn't  got  them  all  on  yet!  "  and  they  all 
broke  into  loud  ha-has. 

IX. 

DARYA  ALEKSANDROVNA,  with  a  platoJc  on  her  head,  and 
surrounded  by  all  her  little  flock  of  bathers,  was  just  drawing 
near  the  house  when  the  coachman  called  out,  "  Here  comes 
some  barin,  — Pokrovsky,  it  looks  like  !  " 

To  her  great  joy,  Darya  Aleksandrovna  saw  that  it  was 
indeed  Levin's  well-known  form  in  gray  hat  and  gray  over- 
coat. She  was  alwa}^  glad  to  see  him ;  but  now  she  was 
particularly  delighted,  because  he  saw  her  in  all  her  glory, 
and  no  one  could  appreciate  her  triumph  better  than  Levin. 

When  he  caught  sight  of  her,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  saw 
the  personification  of  the  family  happiness  of  his  dreams. 

"  You  are  like  a  brooding-hen,  Darya  Aleksandrovna." 

"  Acli!  how  glad  I  am  !  "  said  she,  extending  her  hand. 

"Glad!  But  3-011  did  not  let  me  know.  My  brother  is 
staying  with  me  ;  and  I  had  a  little  note  from  Stiva,  telling 
me  you  were  here." 

"  From  Stiva?  "  repeated  Dolly,  astonished. 

"Yes.  He  wrote  me  that  you  were  in  the  country,  and 
thought  that  you  would  allow  me  to  be  of  some  use  to  you," 
said  Levin  ;  and  suddenly,  even  while  speaking,  he  became 
confused,  and  walked  in  silence  by  the  lintflca,  pulling  off, 
and  biting,  linden-twigs  as  he  went.  It  had  occurred  to  him 


280        .  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

that  Darya  Aleksandrovna  would  doubtless  find  it  painful  to 
have  a  neighbor  offer  her  the  assistance  which  her  husband 
should  have  given.  In  fact,  Darya  Aleksandrovna  was  dis- 
pleased at  the  way  in  which  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  thrust 
his  domestic  difficulties  upon  a  stranger.  She  perceived  that 
Levin  felt  this,  and  she  felt  grateful  to  him  for  his  tact  and 
delicacy. 

"Of  course,  I  understood  that  it  was  a  pleasant  way  of 
telling  me  that  you  would  be  glad  to  see  me  ;  and  I  was  glad. 
Of  course,  I  imagine  that  you,  a  city  dame,  find  it  savage 
here ;  and,  if  I  can  be  of  the  least  use  to  you,  I  am  wholly 
at  your  service." 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Dolly.  "At  first  it  was  rather  hard, 
but  now  every  thing  is  running  beautifully.  I  owe  it  all  to 
my  old  nurse,"  she  added,  pointing  to  Matriona  Filimonovna, 
who,  perceiving  that  they  were  speaking  of  her,  gave  Levin 
a  pleasant,  friendly  smile.  She  knew  him,  and  knew  that 
he  would  make  a  splendid  husband  for  the  baruishna,  as  she 
called  Kitty,  and  thus  felt  an  interest  in  him. 

"Will  you  get  in?    We  will  squeeze  up  a  little,"  said  she. 

"  No,  I  will  walk.  —  Children,  which  of  you  will  run  with 
me  to  get  ahead  of  the  horses?  " 

The  children  were  very  slightly  acquainted  with  Levin,  and 
did  not  remember  where  they  had  seen  him  ;  but  they  had 
none  of  that  strange  feeling  of  timidity  and  aversion  which 
children  are  often  blamed  for  showing  in  the  presence  of 
their  elders.  The  most  shrewd  and  experienced  man  may 
easily  become  the  dupe  of  dissimulation  ;  but  even  the  most 
innocent  child  seems  to  know  it  by  intuition  or  instinct,  though 
it  be  most  carefully  hidden.  Whatever  faults  Levin  had,  he 
could  not  be  accused  of  lack  of  sincerity  ;  and,  moreover, 
the  children  felt  well  inclined  to  him  on  account  of  the  ex- 
pressions of  good  will  that  the}7  had  seen  on  their  mother's 
face.  The  two  eldest  instantly  accepted  his  invitation,  and 
ran  with  him  as  they  would  have  gone  with  their  nurse,  or 
Miss  Hull,  or  their  mother.  Lili  also  wanted  to  go  with  him  : 
so  he  set  her  on  his  shoulder,  and  began  to  run. 

"Don't  be  frightened,  don't  be  frightened,  Darya  Alek- 
sandrovna," he  said,  laughing  gayly.  "I  won't  hurt  her,  or 
let  her  fall." 

And  when  -she  saw  his  strong,  agile,  and  at  the  same  time 
prudent  and  careful,  movements,  Dolly  felt  re-assured,  and 
followed  his  course  with  pleasure. 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  281 

There  in  the  country,  with  the  children  and  with  Darya 
Aleksandrovna,  with  whom  he  felt  thoroughly  in  sympathy, 
Levin  entered  into  that  boylike,  happy  frame  of  mind  which 
was  not  unusual  with  him,  and  which  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
especially  admired  in  him.  He  played  with  the  children,  and 
taught  them  gymnastic  exercises  ;  he  jested  with  Miss  Hull 
in  his  broken  English  ;  and  he  told  Darya  Aleksandrovna  of 
his  undertakings  in  the  country. 

After  dinner,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  sitting  alone  with  him 
on  the  balcony,  began  to  speak  of  Kitty. 

"  Did  you  know?  Kitty  is  coming  here  to  spend  the  sum- 
mer with  me  !  ' ' 

"Indeed!"  replied  Levin,  confused;  and  instantly,  in 
order  to  change  the  subject,  he  added,  — 

"Then  I  shall  send  you  two  cows,  shall  I?  And  if  you 
insist  on  pa}-iug,  and  have  no  scruples,  then  you  may  give 
me  five  rubles  a  month." 

"  No,  excuse  me.     We  shall  get  along." 

"  Nu !  Then  I  am  going  to  look  at  your  cows  ;  and,  with 
your  permission,  I  will  give  directions  about  feeding  them. 
All  depends  on  that." 

And  Levin,  in  order  not  to  hear  any  thing  more  about 
Kitty,  of  whom  more  than  any  thing  else  he  was  anxious  to 
hear,  explained  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna  the  whole  theory  of 
the  proper  management  of  cows,  so  systematized  that  cows 
became  mere  machines  for  the  conversion  of  so  much  fodder 
into  milk,  and  so  on.  He  was  afraid  that  his  peace  of  mind, 
so  painfully  won,  might  be  destroyed. 

"Yes:  but,  in  order  to  do  all  this,  there  must  be  some 
one  to  superintend  it;  and  who  is  there?"  asked  Darya 
Aleksandrovna,  not  quite  convinced. 

Now  that  her  domestic  regime  was  satisfactory,  through 
Matriona  Filimonovna,  she  had  no  desire  to  make  any 
changes :  moreover,  she  had  no  faith  in  Levin's  knowledge 
about  rustic  management.  His  reasonings  about  a  cow 
being  merely  a  machine  to  produce  milk  were  suspicious. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  such  theories  would  throw  house- 
keeping into  discord :  it  even  seemed  to  her  that  they 
might  be  dangerous.  And  that  it  was  sufficient  to  do  as 

o  o 

Matriona  Filimonovna  did,  —  to  give  the  two  cows  more 
fodder,  and  to  prevent  the  cook  from  carrying  dish-water 
from  the  kitchen  to  the  dairy,  —  this  was  clear.  But  the 
theories  about  meal  and  ensilage  for  fodder  were  not  clear, 


282  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

but  dubious  ;  and  the  principal  point  was,  that  she  wanted 
to  talk  about  Kitty. 

X. 

"  KITTY  writes  me  that  she  is  longing  for  solitude  and 
repose,"  began  Dolly  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Is  her  health  better?  "  asked  Levin  with  feeling. 

"  Thank  the  Lord,  she  is  entirely  well!  I  never  believed 
that  she  had  any  lung-trouble." 

"  Ach!  I  am  very  glad,"  said  Levin  ;  and  Dolly  thought 
that  she  could  read  on  his  face  the  touching  expression  of 
inconsolable  grief  as  he  said  it,  and  then  looked  at  her  in 
silence. 

"  Tell  me,  Konstantin  Levin,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
with  a  friendly,  and  at  the  same  time  a  rather  mischievous, 
smile,  "  why  are  you  angry  with  Kitty?  " 

"I?     I  am  not  angry  with  her,"  said  Levin. 

"  Yes,  you  are.  Why  didn't  you  come  to  see  any  of  us 
the  last  time  you  were  in  Moscow?  " 

"Darya  Aleksandrovna,"  he  exclaimed,  blushing  to  the 
roots  of  his  hair,  "  I  beg  of  you,  with  your  kindness  of 
heart,  not  to  think  of  such  a  thing !  How  can  you  not  have 
pity  on  me  when  you  know  "  — 

"  What  do  I  know?" 

"  You  know  that  I  offered  myself,  and  was  rejected." 
And  as  he  said  this,  all  the  tender  feelings  that  Kitty's  name 
had  caused  vanished  at  the  memory  of  this  injury. 

"  How  could  you  suppose  that  I  knew?  " 

"  Because  everybody  knows  it." 

"  There  is  where  you  are  mistaken.  I  suspected  it,  but  I 
knew  nothing  positive." 

"  Ah,  nu!  and  so  you  know  now  !  " 

' '  All  that  I  know  is  that  she  was  keenly  tortured  by  a  mem- 
ory to  which  she  permitted  no  reference  made.  If  she  has 
made  no  confidences  to  me,  then  she  has  not  to  any  one  else. 
Now,  what  have  you  against  her?  Tell  me!  " 

"  I  just  told  you  all  that  there  was." 

"When  was  it?" 

"  When  I  was  at  your  house  the  last  time." 

"  But  do  you  know?  I  will  tell  you,"  said  Darya  Alek- 
sandrovna —  "I  am  sorry  for  Kitty,  very  sorry.  You  suffer 
only  in  your  pride  ' '  — 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  283 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Levin,  "  but  "  — 

She  interrupted  him. 

"  But  she,  poor  little  one,  I  am  very,  very  sorry  for  her. 
Now  I  understand  all !  " 

"  Nu,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  excuse  me,"  said  he,  rising. 
"  Proshcliaite  [good-by],  Darya  Aleksandrovua,  till  we  meet 
again." 

"No!  wait!"  she  cried,  holding  him  by  the  sleeve: 
"  wait!  sit  down  !  " 

"  I  beg  of  you,  I  beg  of  you,  let  us  not  speak  of  this  any 
more,"  said  Levin,  sitting  down  again;  while  a  ray  of  that 
hope  which  he  believed  forever  vanished,  flashed  into  his 
heart. 

"  If  I  did  not  like  you,"  said  Dolly,  her  eyes  full  of  tears, 
"  if  I  did  not  know  you  as  I  do"  — 

The  hope  which  he  thought  was  dead,  filled  Levin's  heart 
more  and  more. 

"Yes,  I  understand  all  now,"  said  Dolly :  "you  cannot 
understand  this,  you  men,  who  are  free  in  your  choice;  it  is 
perfectly  clear  whom  you  love  :  while  a  young  girl,  with  that 
feminine,  maidenly  modesty  imposed  on  her,  must  see  you 
men,  but  must  wait  till  the  word  is  spoken  —  and  the  young 
girl  will  be,  must  be,  so  timid  that  she  will  not  know  what  to 
say." 

"  Yes,  if  her  heart  does  not  speak  "  — 

"  No  ;  her  heart  speaks,  but  think  for  a  moment :  yon  men 
decide  upon  some  girl,  you  visit  her  home,  you  watch,  observe, 
and  you  make  up  your  minds  whether  you  are  in  love  or  not, 
and  then,  when  you  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  you  love 
her,  you  offer  yourselves." 

"  Nu!  we  don't  always  do  that." 

"  All  the  same,  you  don't  propose  until  your  love  is  fully 
ripe,  or  when  you  have  made  up  your  mind  between  two 
possible  choices.  But  the  young  girl  cannot  make  a  choice. 
They  pretend  that  she  can  choose,  but  she  cannot :  she  can 
only  answer  yes  or  no." 

"  Da!  the  choice  was  between  me  and  Vronsky,"  thought 
Levin  ;  and  the  resuscitated  dead  love  in  his  soul  seemed  to 
die  for  a  second,  giving  his  heart  an  additional  pang. 

"  Daiya  Aleksandrovna,"  said  he,  "  thus  one  chooses  a 
dress  or  any  trifling  merchandise,  but  not  love.  Besides,  the 
choice  has  been  made,  and  so  much  the  better ;  and  it  can- 
not be  done  again." 


ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

"  Ach!  pride,  pride!"  said  Dolly,  as  though  she  would 
express  her  scorn  for  the  degradation  of  his  sentiments 
compared  with  those  which  only  women  are  able  to  compre- 
hend. 

"  When  you  offered  yourself  to  Kitty,  she  was  in  just  that 
situation  where  she  could  not  give  an  answer.  She  was  in 
doubt :  the  choice  was  you  or  Vronsky.  She  saw  him  every 
day  :  you  she  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time.  If  she  had  been 
older,  it  would  have  been  different:  if  I,  for  example,  had 
been  in  her  place,  I  should  not  have  hesitated.  He  has 
always  been  distasteful  to  me,  and  so  that  is  the  end  of  it." 

Levin  remembered  Kitty's  reply:    "  No,  this  cannot  be." 

'k  Darya  Aleksandrovna,"  said  he  dryly,  "I  am  touched 
by  your  confidence  in  me  ;  but  I  think  you  are  mistaken. 
Right  or  wrong,  this  vanity  which  you  so  despise  makes  it 
impossible  for  me  ever  to  think  about  Kateriua  Aleksan- 
drovna ;  you  understand?  utterly  impossible." 

"  I  will  say  only  one  thing  more.  You  must  know  that  I 
am  speaking  to  you  of  my  sister,  whom  I  love  as  my  own 
children.  1  don't  say  that  she  loves  you,  but  I  only  wish  to 
say  that  her  reply  at  that  moment  amounted  to  nothing  at 
all." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Levin,  leaping  suddenly  to  his  feet. 
"If  you  only  realized  the  pain  that  }TOU  cause  me!  It  is 
just  the  same  as  if  you  had  lost  a  child,  and  they  came  to 
you  and  said,  '  He  would  have  been  like  this,  like  this,  and 
he  might  have  lived,  and  you  would  have  had  so  much  joy 
in  him  —  But  he  is  dead,  dead,  dead  '  "  — 

"  How  absurd  you  are  !  "  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  with 
a  melancholy  smile  at  the  sight  of  Levin's  emotion.  "  Da! 
I  understand  better  and  better,"  she  continued  pensively. 
"  Then  you  won't  come  to  see  us  when  Kitty  is  here?  " 

"  No,  I  will  not.  Of  course  I  will  not  avoid  Katerina 
Aleksandrovna ;  but,  when  it  is  possible,  I  shall  endeavor  to 
spare  her  the  affliction  of  my  presence." 

"  You  are  very,  very  absurd,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna, 
looking  at  him  affectionately.  "  Nti!  let  it  be  as  though  we 
had  not  said  a  word  about  it.  —  What  do  you  want,  Tania?  " 
said  she  in  French  to  her  little  girl,  who  came  running  in. 

"  Where  is  my  little  shovel,  mamma?  " 

"  I  speak  French  to  you,  and  you  must  answer  in  French." 

The  child  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not  recall  the  French 
word  for  shovel.  Her  mother  whispered  it  to  her,  and  then 


ANNA   KAKfiNINA.  285 

told  her,  still  in  French,  where  she  should  go  to  find  it.  This 
made  Levin  feel  unpleasantly. 

Every  thing  now  seemed  changed  in  Darya  Aleksandrovna's 
household  ;  even  the  children  were  not  nearly  so  attractive 
as  before. 

"And  why  does  she  speak  French  to  the  children?"  he 
thought.  "How  false  and  unnatural!  Even  the  children 
feel  it.  Teach  them  French,  and  spoil  their  sincerity,"  he 
said  to  himself,  not  knowing  that  Darya  Aleksandrovna  had 
twenty  times  asked  the  same  question,  and  yet,  in*  spite  of 
the  harm  that  it  did  their  simplicity,  had  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  this  was  the  right  way  to  teach  them. 

"  But  why  are  you  in  a  hurry?     Sit  a  little  while  longer." 

Levin  staid  to  tea ;  but  all  his  gayety  was  gone,  and  he 
felt  bored. 

After  tea  he  went  out  to  give  orders  about  harnessing  the 
horses  :  and  when  he  came  in  he  found  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
in  great  disturbance,  with  flushed  face,  and  tears  in  her  eyes. 
During  his  short  absence  all  the  pleasure  and  pride  that  she 
took  in  her  children  had  been  ruthlessly  destroyed.  Grisha 
and  Tania  had  quarrelled  about  a  ball.  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna, hearing  their  cries,  ran  to  them,  and  found  them  in  a 
frightful  state.  Tauia  was  pulling  her  brother's  hair ;  and 
he,  with  angry  face,  was  pounding  his  sister  with  all  his 
might.  When  Da'rya  Aleksandrovna  saw  it,  something 
seemed  to  snap  in  her  heart.  A  black  cloud,  as  it  were, 
came  down  on  her  life.  She  saw  that  these  children  of  hers, 
of  whom  she  was  so  proud,  were  not  only  ill  trained,  but 
were  even  bad,  and  inclined  to  the  most  evil  and  tempestuous 
passions. 

This  thought  troubled  her  so  that  sh$  could  not  speak  or 
think,  or  even  explain  her  sorrow  to  Levin.  Levin' saw  that 
she  was  unhappy,  and  he  did  his  best  to  comfort  her,  saying 
that  this  was  not  so  very  terrible,  after  all,  and  that  all  chil- 
dren got  into  fights  ;  but  in  his  heart  he  said,  "  No,  I  will 
not  bother  myself  to  speak  French  with  my  children.  I 
shall  not  have  such  children.  There  is  no  need  of  spoiling 
them,  and  making  them  unnatural ;  and  they  will  be  charm- 
ing. Da!  my  children  shall  not  be  like  these." 

He  took  his  leave,  and  rode  away  ;  and  she  did  not  try  to 
keep  him  longer. 


286  ANNA  KAE&NINA. 


XL 

TOWARDS  the  middle  of  July,  Levin  received  a  visit  from 
the  stdrosta  of  his  sister's  estate,  situated  about  twenty  versts 
from  Pokrovsky.  He  brought  the  report  about  the  progress 
of  affairs,  and  about  the  hay-making.  The  chief  income  from 
this  estate  came  from  the  prairies  inundated  in  tlie  spring. 
In  former  years  the  muzhiks  rented  these  hayh'elds  at  the 
rate  of  twenty  rubles  a  desyatin.  But  when  Levin  under- 
took the  management  of  this  estate,  and  examined  the  hay- 
crops,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  rent  was  too  low, 
and  he  raised  it  to  the  rate  of  twenty-five  rubles  a  clasyi.it in. 
The  muzhiks  refused  to  pay  this,  and,  as  Levin  suspected, 
drove  away  other  lessees.  Then  Levin  himself  went  there, 
and  arranged  to  have  the  prairies  mowed  partly  by  day  la- 
borers, partly  on  shares.  His  muzhiks  were  greatly  discon- 
tented with  this  new  plan,  and  did  their  best  to  block  it ;  but 
it  succeeded,  and  even  the  very  first  year  the  yield  from  the 
prairies  was  doubled.  For  the  second  and  the  third  sum- 
mere  the  peasantry  still  resisted,  but  the  harvesting  went  on 
in  good  order,  and  the  present  year  the}7  proposed  to  mow  the 
prairies  on  thirds  ;  and  now  the  stdrosta  came  to  announce 
that  the  work  was  done,  and  that  he,  fearing  lest  it  should 
rain,  had  asked  the  accountant  to  make  the  division,  and  turn 
over  to  the  proprietor  the  eighteen  hay-cocks  which  were  his 
share.  By  the  unsatisfactory  answer  to  his  question  why 
the  hay  had  been  mowed  only  on  the  largest  prairie,  b}'  the 
stdrosia's  haste  in  declaring  the  division  without  orders,  by 
the  muzhik's  whole  manner,  Levin  was  led  to  think  that  in 
this  matter  there  was  something  crooked,  and  he  concluded 
that  it  would  be  wise,  to  go  and  look  into  it. 

Levin  reached  the  estate  just  at  dinner-time  ;  and,  leaving 
his  horse  at  the  house  of  his  brother's  nurse,  he  went  to  find 
the  old  man  at  the  apiary,  hoping  to  obtain  from  him  some 
light  on  the  question  of  the  hay-crop. 

The  loquacious,  friendly  old  man,  whose  name  was  Par- 
menvitch,  was  delighted  to  see  Levin,  told  him  all  about  his 
husbandry,  and  gave  him  a  long  account  of  his  bees,  and 
how  they  swarmed  this  year ;  but  when  Levin  asked  him 
about  the  hay,  he  gave  vague  and  unsatisfactory  answers. 
And  thus  Levin's  suspicions  were  more  than  ever  strength- 
ened. Thence  he  went  to  the  prairie  and  examined  the  hay- 


ANNA   KABtiNINA.  287 

ricks,  and  found  that  they  could  not  contain  fifty  loads  each, 
as  the  muzhiks  said.  ISo  he  had  one  of  the  carts  which  they 
had  used  as  a  measure  to  be  brought,  and  ordered  all  the 
hay  from  one  of  the  ricks  to  be  carried  into  the  shed.  The 
hay-rick  was  found  to  contain  only  thirty-two  loads.  Not- 
withstanding the  stdrosta's  protestations  that  the  hay  was 
measured  right,  and  that  it  must  have  got  pressed  down  in 
the  cart ;  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  called  God  to 
witness  that  it  was  all  done  in  the  most  righteous  manner,  — 
Levin  replied,  that,  as  the  division  had  been  made  without 
his  orders,  he  would  not  accept  the  hay-ricks  as  equivalent  to 
fifty  loads  each.  After  long  parleys,  it  was  decided  that  the 
muzhiks  should  take  eleven  of  these  hay-ricks  for  their  share, 
but  that  the  master's  should  be  measured  over  again.  The 
colloquy  did  not  come  to  an  end  until  it  was  after  the  lunch- 
hour.  When  the  division  was  going  on,  Levin,  confiding  the 
care  of  the  work  to  the  book-keeper,  sat  down  on  one  of  the 
hay-ricks  which  was  marked  by  a  laburnum  stake,  and 
enjoyed  the  spectacle  of  the  prairie  alive  with  the  busy 
peasantry. 

Before  him  lay  the  bend  of  the  river,  and  on  the  banks  he 
saw  the  peasant  women,  and  heard  their  ringing  voices  as 
they  gossipped,  and  moved  in  parti-colored  groups,  raking 
the  scattered  hay  over  the  beautiful  green-growing  aftermath, 
into  long  wavering  brown  ramparts.  Behind  the  babui  came 
the  muzhiks  with  pitchforks,  who  turned  the  windrows  into 
huge  high-crested  hay-cocks.  On  one  side  in  the  corner  of 
the  prairie,  all  cleared  of  hay,  came  the  creaking  tdytyas  in 
a  long  line.  One  by  one  they  were  loaded  with  the  share 
belonging  to  the  muzhiks,  and  their  places  were  taken  by  the 
horse-wagons  heavy  with  the  loads  of  fragrant  hay. 

"Splendid  hay  weather!  Soon '11  be  all  in,"  said  the 
starik,  sitting  down  near  Levin.  k'  Tea-leaves,  not  hay. 
Scatter  it  just  like  seeds  for  the  chickens."  Then,  pointing 
to  a  hay-rick  which  the  men  were  demolishing,  the  starik 
went  on  :  "  Since  dinner,  pitched  up  a  good  half  of  it.  —  Is 
that  the  last?"  he  shouted  to  a  young  fellow  who,  standing 
on  the  thills  of  a  telyega,  and  shaking  his  hempen  reins,  was 
driving  by. 

"  The  last,  bdtiushka,"  shouted  back  the  young  fellow, 
hauling  in  his  horse.  Then  he  looked  down  with  a  smile  up- 
on a  happy-looking,  rosy-faced  baba  who  was  sitting  on  the 
hay  in  the  telytya,  and  whipped  up  his  steed  again. 


288  ANNA   KARfiNlNA. 

"Who  is  that?  your  son?"  asked  Levin. 

"  My  youngest,"  said  the  starik  with  an  expression  of 
pride. 

"What  a  fine  fellow!  " 

"Not  bad." 

"Married  yet?" 

"  Yes,  three  years  come  next  Filipovok  "  [St.  Philip's 
Day,  Nov.  14]. 

"  So?     And  are  there  children?  " 

"  How?  children?  No,  more's  the  pity.  Nu!  the  hajr, 
just  tea-leaves,"  he  added,  wishing  to  change  the  subject. 

Levin  looked  with  interest  at  Vanka  Parmenof  and  his 
young  wife.  Vanka  was  standing  on  the  wagon,  arranging, 
storing,  and  pressing  down  the  fragrant  hay  which  the  hand- 
some good-wife  handed  up  to  him.  The  young  baba  worked 
gayly,  industriously,  and  skilfully.  First  she  arranged  it 
with  her  fork  ;  then,  with  elastic  and  agile  motions,  she  exerted 
all  her  strength  upon  it ;  and,  bending  over,  she  lifted  up  the 
great  armful,  and  standing  straight,  with  full  bosom  under 
the  white  chemise  gathered  with  a  red  girdle,  she  handed  it 
to  her  husband.  Vanka,  working  as  rapidly  as  he  could,  so 
as  to  relieve  her  of  every  moment  of  extra  work,  stretched 
out  his  arms  wide,  and  caught  up  the  load  which  she  ex- 
tended, and  trampled  it  down  into  the  wagon.  Then,  raking 
up  what  was  left,  the  baba  shook  off  the  hay  that  had  got 
into  her  neck,  and,  tying  a  red  handkerchief  around  her  broad 
white  brow,  she  crept  under  the  telyega  to  fasten  down  the 
load.  Vanka  showed  her  how  the  ropes  should  be  tied,  and  at 
some  remark  that  she  made  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter. 
On  the  expressive  faces  of  both  could  be  seeii  the  marks  of 
strong  young  love  newly  awakened. 


XII. 

THE  load  was  complete  ;  and  Vanka,  jumping  down ,  took  his 
gentle,  fat  horse  by  the  bridle,  and  joined  the  file  of  telytgas 
going  to  the  village.  The  baba  threw  her  rake  on  the  load, 
and  with  firm  step  joined  the  other  women  who  in  a  group 
followed  the  carts.  The  bnbui,  with  rakes  on  their  shoulders, 
and  dressed  in  bright-colored  petticoats,  began  to  sing  in 
loud,  happy  voices.  One  wild,  untrained  voice  would  intone 
the  folk-song  (py^sna),  and  then  fifty  other  young,  fresh, 


ANNA   KARtiNINA,  289 

and  powerful  voices  would  take  it  up,  and  repeat  it  to  the 
end. 

The  babui,  singing  their  pyesna,  passed  by  Levin  ;  and  it 
seemed  to  him,  as  he  sat  comfortably  on  his  hay-rick,  that 
they  were  like  a  cloud,  big  with  tumultuous  joy,  ready  to 
overwhelm  him  and  carry  him  off,  together  with  his  hay  and 
the  other  hay-ricks  and  the  wagons.  As  he  heard  the  rhythm 
of  this  wild  song,  with  its  accompaniment  of  whistles  and 
shrill  cries,  the  prairie,  the  far-away  fields,  — all  things  seemed 
to  him  to  be  filled  with  a  strange,  weird  life  and  animation. 
This  gayety  filled  him  with  envy.  He  would  have  liked  to 
take  part ;  but  he  could  not  thus  express  his  joy  of  living, 
and  he  was  obliged  to  lie  still  and  look  and  listen.  When 
the  throng  had  passed  out  of  sight,  he  was  seized  with  a 
sense  of  his  loneliness,  of  his  physical  indolence,  of  the 
hostility  which  existed  between  him  and  this  life  that  he 
saw. 

All  of  these  muzhiks,  even  those  who  had  quarrelled  with 
him  about  the  hay,  or  those  whom  he  had  injured  if  their 
intention  was  not  to  cheat  him,  saluted  him  gayly  as  they 
passed,  and  showed  no  anger  for  what  he  had  done,  or  any 
remorse  or  even  remembrance  that  they  had  tried  to  defraud 
him.  All  was  swallowed  up  and  forgotten  in  this  sea  of  joy- 
ous, universal  labor.  God  gave  the  day,  God  gave  the 
strength ;  and  the  day  and  the  strength  consecrated  the 
labor,  and  gave  their  own  reward.  For  whom  the  work? 
Who  would  enjoy  the  work?  These  questions  were  sec- 
ondary and  of  no  account. 

Levin  had  often  looked  with  interest  at  this  life,  had  often 
been  tempted  to  become  one  with  the  people,  living  their 
lives  ;  but  to-day  the  impression  of  what  he  had  seen  in  the 
bearing  of  Vanka  Parmenof  towards  his  young  wife  gave  him 
for  the  first  time  a  clear  and  definite  desire  to  exchange  the 
burdensome,  idle,  artificial,  selfish  existence  which  he  led, 
for  the  laborious,  simple,  pure,  and  delightful  life  of  the 
peasantiy. 

The  starik,  who  had  been  sitting  with  him,  had  already  gone 
home  ;  the  people  were  scattered ;  the  neighbors  had  gone 
home  :  but  those  who  lived  at  a  distance  were  preparing  to 
spend  the  night  on  the  prairie,  and  getting  ready  for  supper. 

Levin,  without  being  seen,  still  lay  on  the  hay,  looking, 
listening,  and  thinking.  The  peasantry  gathered  on  the 
prairie  scarcely  slept  throughout  the  short  summer  night. 


290  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

At  first  there  were  gay  gossip  and  laughter  while  everybody 
was  eating  ;  then  followed  songs  and  jests. 

All  the  long,  laborious  day  had  left  no  trace  upon  them, 
except  of  its  happiness.  Just  before  the  dawn  there  was 
silence  everywhere.  Nothing  could  be  heard  but  the  noc- 
turnal sounds  of  the  frogs  croaking  in  the  marsh,  and  the 
horses  whim^-ing  as  they  waited  for  the  coming  morning. 
Coming  to  himself,  Levin  stood  up  on  the  hay-rick,  and, 
looking  at  the  stars,  saw  that  the  night  had  gone. 

"  Nu!  what  am  I  going  to  do?  How  am  I  going  to  do 
this?"  he  asked  himself,  trying  to  give  a  shape  to  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  that  had  occupied  him  during  this 
short  night. 

These  thoughts  and  feelings  had  run  in  three  separate 
directions.  First,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  must  renounce 
his  former  way  of  living,  which  was  useful  neither  to  himself 
nor  to  anybody  else.  In  comparison  to  it,  the  new  life 
seemed  to  him  simple  and  attractive.  The  second  thought 
especially  referred  to  the  new  life  which  he  longed  to  lead. 
To  renounce  his  useless  intellectual  culture  was  easy,  espe- 
cially when  the  simplicity  and  purity  of  his  future  life  was 
so  likely,  as  he  thought,  to  restore  him  to  calmness  and  quie- 
tude of  mind.  The  third  line  of  thought  brought  him  to  the 
question  how  he  should  effect  the  transition  from  the  old  life 
to  the  new,  and  in  this  regard  there  was  nothing  clear  that 
presented  itself  to  his  mind.  "  I  must  have  a  wife.  I  must 
engage  in  work,  and  not  solitary  work.  Shall  I  sell  Pok- 
rovsky?  buy  land?  join  the  commune?  marry  a  peasant 
woman?  How  can  I  do  all  this?"  he  asked  himself,  and 
no  answer  came.  "  However,"  he  went  on  in  his  self-com- 
muuings,  "•  I  have  not  slept  all  night,  and  my  ideas  are  not 
very  clear.  I  shall  reduce  them  to  order  by  and  by.  One 
thing  is  certain  :  this  night  has  settled  my  fate.  All  my 
former  dreams  of  family  existence  were  rubbish,  but  this  — 
all  this  is  vastly  simpler  and  better. 

"How  lovely!"  he  thought  as  he  gazed  at  the  delicate 
rosy  clouds,  colored  like  mother-of-pearl,  which  floated  in 
the  sky  above  him.  "  How  charming  every  thing  has  been 
this  lovely  night !  And  when  did  that  shell  have  time  to 
form?  I  have  been  looking  this  long  time  at  the  sky.  and 
only  two  white  streaks  were  to  be  seen.  Da!  thus,  without 
my  knowing  it,  my  views  about  life  have  been  changed." 

He  left  the  prairie,  and  walked  along  the  highway  towards 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  291 

the  village.  A  cool  breeze  began  to  blow.  At  this  moment, 
just  before  the  dawn,  every  thing  took  on  a  gray  and  melan- 
choly tint,  as  if  to  bring  out  into  stronger  relief  the  perfect 
triumph  of  light  over  the  darkness. 

Levin  shivered  with  the  chill.  He  walked  fast,  looking 
at  the  ground.  "  Who  is  that  coming?  "  he  asked  himself, 
hearing  the  sound  of  bells.  He  raised  his  head.  About 
forty  steps  from  him  he  saw,  coming  towards  him  on  the 
highway,  a  travelling-carriage,  drawn  by  four  horses.  The 
horses,  to  avoid  the  ruts,  pressed  close  against  the  pole ; 
but  the  skilful  yamshchik  [driver] ,  seated  on  one  side  of  the 
box,  drove  so  well  that  the  wheels  kept  only  on  the  smooth 
surface  of  the  road. 

Levin  was  so  interested  in  this  that  he  looked  only  at  the 
carriage,  and  forgot  about  the  occupants. 

In  one  corner  of  the  carriage  an  elderly  lady  was  asleep  ; 
and  by  the  window  sat  a  young  girl,  only  just  awake,  holding 
with  both  hands  the  ribbons  of  her  white  bonnet.  Serene 
and  thoughtful,  filled  with  a  lofty,  complex  life  which  Levin 
could  not  understand,  she  was  gazing  beyond  him  at  the 
glow  of  the  morning  sky. 

At  the  very  instant  that  this  vision  flashed  by  him  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  frank  e3'es.  He  recognized  her,  and 
a  gleam  of  joy,  mingled  with  wonder,  shone  upon  his  face.1 

He  could  not  be  mistaken.  Only  she  in  all  the  world 
could  have  such  ej'es.  In  all  the  world  there  was  but  one 
being  who  could  condense  for  him  all  the  light  and  meaning 
of  life.  It  was  she  :  it  was  Kitty.  He  judged  that  she  was 
on  her  way  from  the  railway  station  to  Yergushovo.  And  all 
the  thoughts  that  had  occupied  Levin  through  his  sleepless 
night,  all  the  resolutions  that  he  had  made,  vanished  in  a 
twinkling.  Horror  seized  him  as  he  remembered  his  resolution 
of  marrying  a  krestianka.  In  that  carriage  which  flashed 
by  him  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  and  disappeared,  was 
the  only  possible  answer  to  his  life's  enigma  which  had  tor- 
mented and  puzzled  him  so  long.  She  was  now  out  of  sight ; 
the  rumble  of  the  wheels  had  ceased,  and  scarcely  could  he 
hear  the  bells.  The  barking  of  the  dogs  told  him  that  the 
carriage  was  passing  through  the  village.  And  now  there 
remained  only  the  lonely  prairies,  the  distant  village,  and 

1  In  the  original  it  says  that  she  recognized  Levin,  and  the  joy  shone  upon  her 
face.  But  it  is  evident,  from  the  conversation  in  chap.  zi.  book  iii.,  that  it  could  not 
have  been  so. 


292  ANNA   KAJitfNINA. 

himself,  an  alien  and  a  stranger  to  every  thing,  walking  soli- 
tan'  on  the  deserted  highway. 

He  looked  at  the  sky,  hoping  to  find  there  still  the  sea-shell 
cloud  which  he  had  admired,  and  which  personified  for  him 
the  movement  of  his  thoughts  and  feelings  during  the  night. 
But  he  could  find  nothing  that  resembled  the  pearl-like  hues. 
There,  at  immeasurable  heights,  that  mysterious  change  had 
already  taken  place.  There  was  no  sign  of  the  sea-shell, 
but  in  its  place  there  extended  over  the  whole  level  extent  of 
the  heavens  a  tapestry  of  cirrhous  clouds  sweeping  on  and 
sweeping  on.  The  sky  was  growing  blue  and  luminous,  and 
with  tenderness  and  less  of  mystery  it  answered  his  ques- 
tioning look. 

"  No,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  however  good  this  simple 
and  laborious  life  may  be,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  it.  I 
love  her." 

XIII. 

No  one  except  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's  most  intimate 
friends  suspected  that  this  apparently  cold  and  rational  man 
had  one  weakness  absolutely  contradictory  to  the  general 
consistency  of  his  character.  He  could  not  look  on  with  indif- 
ference when  a  child  or  a  woman  was  weeping.  The  sight 
of  tears  caused  him  to  lose  his  self-control,  and  destroyed  for 
him  his  reasoning-faculties.  His  subordinates  understood 
this,  and  warned  women  who  came  to  present  petitions  not  to 
allow  their  feelings  to  overcome  them  unless  they  wanted 
to  injure  their  prospects.  "  He  will  fly  into  a  passion,  and 
will  not  listen  to  you,"  they  said.  And  it  was  a  fact  that 
the  trouble  which  the  sight  of  weeping  caused  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch  was  expressed  by  hasty  irritation.  "  I  cannot, 
I  cannot,  do  any  thing  for  you.  Please  leave  me,"  he  would 
cry,  as  a  general  thing,  in  such  cases. 

When,  on  their  way  back  from  the  races,  Anna  confessed 
her  love  for  Vronsky,  and,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands, 
burst  into  tears,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  in  spite  of  his 
anger  against  his  wife,  was  conscious  at  the  same  time  of 
this  feeling  of  deep,  soul-felt  emotion  which  the  sight  of  weep- 
ing always  caused  him.  Knowing  this,  and  knowing  that  any 
expression  of  it  would  be  incompatible  with  the  situation,  he 
endeavored  to  restrain  every  sign  of  life,  and  therefore  he 
did  not  move  and  did  not  look  at  her :  hence  arose  that 


ANNA   KAEfiNINA.  293 

strange  appearance  of  deathlike  rigidity  in  his  face  which 
so  impressed  Anna. 

When  they  reached  home,  he  helped  her  from  the  carnage  ; 
and,  having  made  a  great  effort,  he  left  her  with  ordinar}' 
politeness,  saying  those  words  which  would  not  oblige  him 
to  follow  any  course.  He  simply  said  that  to-morrow  he 
would  let  her  know  his  decision. 

Anna's  words,  confirming  his  worst  .suspicions,  caused  a 
keen  pain  in  his  heart ;  and  this  pain  was  made  still  keener 
by  the  strange  sensation  of  physical  pity  for  her,  caused 
by  the  sight  of  her  tears.  Yet,  as  he  sat  alone  in  his  car- 
riage, Aleksandrovitch  felt,  to  his  surprise  and  pleasure, 
as  if  an  immense  weight  had  been  taken  from  his  mind.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  was  now  freed  from  his  doubts,  his 
jealousy,  and  his  pity. 

He  appreciated  the  feelings  of  a  man  who  has  been  suffer- 
ing long  from  the  toothache,  and  at  last  has  the  tooth  drawn. 
The  pain  is  terrible,  frightful,  that  sensation  of  an  enormous 
bod}-,  greater  than  the  head  itself,  which  the  forceps  tears 
away  ;  and  the  patient  can  hardly  believe  in  his  good  fortune 
when  the  pain  that  has  poisoned  his  life  so  long  has  suddenly 
ceased,  and  he  can  live,  think,  and  interest  himself  in  some- 
thing besides  his  aching  tooth.  Such  was  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch's  feeling.  The  pain  had  been  strange  and  terrible, 
but  now  it  was  over.  He  felt  that  he  could  live  again  and 
think  of  something  besides  his  wife. 

"  Without  honor,  without  heart,  without  religion,  a  lost 
woman !  This  I  always  knew,  although  out  of  pity  for 
her,  I  tried  to  blind  myself,"  he  said  to  himself.  And  he 
was  perfectly  sincere  in  his  conviction  that  he  had  always 
been  so  perspicacious.  He  recalled  many  details  of  their 
past  lives ;  and  things  which  once  seemed  innocent  in  his 
eyes,  now  clearly  came  up  as  proofs  that  she  had  always  been 
corrupt. 

"  I  made  a  mistake  when  I  joined  my  life  to  hers  ;  but  my 
mistake  was  not  my  fault,  and  I  ought  not  to  be  unhappy. 
The  guilt}-  one,"  he  said,  "is  not  I,  but  she.  But  I  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  her.  She  does  not  exist  for  me." 

He  ceased  to  think  of  the  misfortunes  that  would  befall 
her,  as  well  as  his  son,  for  whom  also  his  feelings  underwent 
a  similar  change.  The  one  essential  thing  was  the  question, 
how  to  make  his  escape  from  this  wretched  crisis  in  a  fashion 
at  once  wise,  correct,  and  honorable  for  himself,  and  having 


294  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

cleared  himself  satisfactorily  from  the  mud  which  she  had 
spattered  him  withal,  owing  to  her  evil  conduct,  henceforth 
pursue  his  own  path  of  honorable,  active,  and  useful  life. 

"  Must  I  make  myself  wretched  because  a  despicable 
woman  has  committed  a  sin?  All  I  want,  is  to  find  a  way 
out  from  the  situation  in  which  she  has  brought  me.  And  I 
will  find  it,"  he  added,  getting  more  and  more  determined. 
"  I  am  not  the  first,  nor  the  second."  And  not  speaking  of 
the  historical  examples,  beginning  with  "  La  Belle  He'lene  " 
of  Menelaus,  which  had  recently  been  brought  to  all  their 
memories,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  went  over  in  his  mind  a 
whole  series  of  contemporary  episodes,  where  husbands  of 
the  highest  position  had  been  obliged  to  mourn  the  faithless- 
ness of  their  wives. 

"  Darialof,  Poltavsk}-,  Prince  Karibanof,  Count  Paskudin, 
Dramm  (yes,  even  Dramm,  honorable,  industrious  man  as 
he  is),  Semenof,  Tchagin,  Sigonin.  Suppose  we  apply  the 
unjust  epithet  ridicule  to  these  people  ;  but  I  never  saw  any 
thing  in  this  except  their  misfortune,  and  I  always  pitied 
them,"  thought  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  although  this  also 
was  absolutely  false,  and  he  had  never  felt  any  pity  of  this 
sort,  and  had  only  plumed  himself  the  more  as  he  had  heard 
of  wives  deceiving  their  husbands. 

"  This  disgrace  is  liable  to  strike  an}-  one,  and  now  it  has 
struck  me.  The  main  thing  is,  to  know  how  to  find  a  practi- 
cal way  of  settling  the  difficulty."  And  he  called  to  mind 
the  different  ways  in  which  all  the  men  had  behaved. 

"  Darialof  fought  a  duel  "  — 

Duelling  had  often  been  a  subject  of  consideration  to 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  when  he  was  a  young  man,  and  for 
the  reason  that  he  was  a  timid  man,  and  he  knew  it.  He 
could  not  think  without  a  shudder  of  having  a  pistol  levelled 
at  him,  and  never  in  his  life  had  he  made  any  practice  with 
fire-arms.  This  instinctive  horror  caused  him  to  think  many 
times  about  duelling,  and  he  tried  to  accustom  himself  to  the 
thought  that  he  might  be  obliged  some  time  to  expose  his 
life  to  this  danger.  Afterwards,  when  he  reached  a  high 
social  position,  these  impressions  faded  away  ;  but  his  habit 
of  distrusting  his  courage  was  so  strong,  that,  at  this  time, 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  long  deliberated  about  the  matter, 
turning  it  over  on  all  sides,  and  questioning  the  expediency 
of  a  duel,  although  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  in  any  case 
he  should  not  fight. 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  295 

"The  state  of  our  society  is  still  so  savage,"  he  said, — 
"  though  it  is  not  so  iu  England,  —  that  very  many  "  — 

And  in  these  man//,  to  whom  such  a  solution  was  satisfac- 
tory, thei;e  were  some  for  whose  opinions  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch  had  the  very  highest  regard.  "Looking  at  the  duel 
on  all  sides,  to  what  result  does  it  lead?  Let  us  suppose 
that  I  challenge  !  "  And  here  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  drew 
a  vivid  picture  of  the  night  that  he  would  spend  after  the 
challenge  ;  and  he  imagined  the  pistol  drawn  upon  him,  and 
he  shuddered,  and  made  up  his  mind  that  he  could  never  do 
such  a  thing.  "  Let  us  suppose  that  I  challenge  him,  that  I 
learn  how  to  shoot,"  he  forced  himself  to  think,  "  that  I  am 
standing,  that  I  pull  the  trigger,"  he  said  to  himself,  shut- 
ting his  eyes,  "•  and  suppose  I  kill  him  ;  "  and  he  shook  his 
head,  to  drive  away  these  absurd  notions.  "What  sense 
would  there  be  in  causing  a  man's  death,  in  order  to  re- 
establish relations  with  a  sinful  woman  and  her  son?  Would 
the  question  be  settled  in  any  such  way?  But  suppose — and 
this  is  vastly  more  likeh*  to  happen  —  that  I  am  the  one 
killed  or  wounded.  I,  an  innocent  man,  the  victim,  killed 
or  wounded  ?  Still  more  unreasonable,  worse  than  that,  the 
challenge  to  a  duel  on  my  part  would  be  absurd,  and  not 
an  honorable  action:  besides,  don't  I  know  beforehand  that 
my  friends  would  never  allow  me  to  fight  a  duel?  would  never 
permit  the  life  of  a  government  official,  who  is  so  indispen- 
sable to  Russia,  to  be  exposed  to  danger?  What  would  hap- 
pen? I  should  seem  to  people  to  be  anxious  to  win  notoriety 
by  a  challenge  that  could  lead  to  no  result.  It  would  be 
dishonorable,  it  would  be  false,  it  would  be  an  act  of  decep- 
tion towards  others  and  towards  myself.  A  duel  is  not  to  be 
thought  of,  and  no  one  expects  it  of  me.  My  sole  aim  should 
be  to  preserve  my  reputation,  and  not  to  suffer  any  unneces- 
sary interruption  of  my  activity."  The  service  of  the  state, 
always  important  in  the  eyes  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch, 
now  appeared  to  him  of  extraordinary  importance. 

Having  decided  against  the  duel,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 
began  to  discuss  the  question  of  divorce  —  a  second  expe- 
dient which  had  been  employed  by  several  of  the  pen  whom 
he  had  iu  mind.  Examples  of  divorces  in  high  life  were 
well  known  to  him,  but  he  could  not  name  a  single  case 
where  the  aim  of  the  divorce  had  been  such  as  he  proposed. 
The  husband  in  each  case  had  sold  or  given  up  the  faith- 
less wife  ;  and  the  guilty  party,  who  had  no  right  to  a  second 


296  ANNA   KARtiNlNA. 

marriage,  had  entered  into  relations,  imagined  to  be  sanc- 
tioned, with  a  new  husband.  As  to  legal  divorce,  which 
proposed  as  its  end  the  punishment  of  the  faithless  woman, 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  came  to  the  conclusion,  as  he  rea- 
soned about  it,  that  it  was  impossible.  The  coarse,  brutal 
proofs  demanded  by  the  law  would  be,  in  the  complex  con- 
ditions of  his  life,  out  of  the  question  for  him  to  furnish : 
even  had  they  existed,  and  he  could  make  public  use  of 
them,  the  scandal  that  would  ensue  would  cause  him  to  fall 
lower  in  public  opinion  than  the  guilty  wife. 

Divorce,  moreover,  broke  off  absolutely  all  dealings  be- 
tween wife  and  husband,  and  united  her  to  her  paramour. 
But  in  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's  heart,  in  spite  of  the  indif- 
ference and  scorn  which  he  affected  to  feel  towards  his  wife, 
there  still  remained  one  very  keen  sentiment,  and  that  was 
his  unwillingness  for  her  to  unite  her  lot  absolutely  with 
Vronsky,  so  that  her  fault  would  turn  out  to  her  advantage. 
This  thought  was  so  painful  to  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch,  that 
he  almost  groaned  aloud  with  mental  pain  ;  and  he  got  up 
from  his  seat,  changed  his  place,  and  with  stern  countenance 
deliberately  wrapped  his  woolly  plaid  around  his  thin  and 
chilly  legs. 

Besides  formal  divorce,  there  could  still  be  separation,  as 
in  the  case  of  Karibauof,  Paskudin  and  that  gentle  Dramm, 
but  this  measure  had  almost  the  same  disadvantages  as  the 
other :  it  was  practicall}'  to  throw  his  wife  into  Vronsky's 
arms.  "No:  it  is  impossible  —  impossible,"  he  muttered, 
again  trying  to  wrap  himself  up.  "  I  cannot  be  unhappy, 
but  neither  ought  she  or  he  to  be  happy." 

The  sensation  of  jealousy  which  had  pained  him  while  he 
was  still  ignorant,  came  back  to  him  at  this  moment  as  he 
thought  of  his  wife's  words  ;  but  it  was  followed  by  a  differ- 
ent one, —  the  desire  not  only  that  she  should  not  triumph, 
but  that  she  should  receive  the  reward  for  her  sins.  He  did 
not  express  it,  but  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  he  desired  that 
she  should  be  punished  for  the  way  in  which  she  had  de- 
stroyed his  peace  and  honor. 

After  passing  in  review  the  disadvantages  of  the  duel,  the 
divorce,  and  the  separation,  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  there  was  only  one  way  to  escape  from  his 
trouble,  and  that  was  to  keep  his  wife  under  his  protection, 
shielding  his  misfortune  from  the  eyes  of  the  world,  employ- 
ing all  possible  means  to  break  off  the  illicit  relationship, 


ANNA   KAlitfNINA.  297, 

and — what  he  did  not  avow  to  himself,  though  it  was  the 
principal  point —  punishing  his  wife's  fault. 

"  I  must  let  her  know,  that,  in  the  situation  into  which  she 
has  brought  our  family,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  statu  quo  is  the  only  way  that  seems  advisable  on  all 
sides  ;  and  that  I  will  agree  to  preserve,  under  the  strenuous 
condition  that  she  fulfil  my  will,  and  absolutely  break  off  all 
relations  with  her  paramour." 

Having  made  this  resolution,  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch 
brought  up  arguments  which  sanctioned  it  in  his  eyes. 
"  Only  by  acting  in  this  manner,  do  I  conform  absolutely 
with  the  law  of  religion,"  he  said  to  himself;  "  only  by  this 
reasoning,  do  1  refuse  to  send  away  the  adulterous  woman  ; 
and  I  give  her  the  chance  of  amending  her  ways,  and  like- 
wise,—  painful  as  it  will  be  to  me,  —  I  consecrate,  as  it  were, 
my  powers  to  her  regeneration  and  salvation." 

Though  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  knew  that  he  could  have 
no  influence  over  his  wife,  and  that  the  attempts  which  he 
should  make  to  convert  his  wife  would  be  illusory,  still,  dur- 
ing the  sad  moments  that  he  had  been  passing  through,  he 
had  not  for  an  instant  thought  of  finding  a  foot-hold  in 
religion,  until  now,  when  he  felt  that  his  determination  was 
in  accordance  with  religion :  then  this  religious  sanction 
gave  him  full  comfort  and  satisfaction.  He  was  consoled 
with  the  thought  that  no  one  would  have  the  right  to  blame 
him  for  having,  in  such  a  trying  period  of  his  life,  acted  in 
opposition  to  the  religion  whose  banner  he  bore  aloft  in  the 
midst  of  universal  indifference. 

He  even  went  so  far  at  last  as  to  see  no  reason  wh}'  his 
relations  with  his  wife  should  not  remain  as  they  had  always 
been.  Of  course,  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  feel 
great  confidence  in  her ;  but  he  saw  no  reason  why  he  should 
ruin  his  whole  life,  and  suffer  personally,  because  she  was  a 
bad  and  faithless  wife. 

''Da!  the  time  will  come,"  he  thought,  "the  time  that 
solves  all  problems  ;  and  our  relations  will  be  brought  into  the 
old  order,  so  that  I  shall  not  feel  the  disorder  that  has  broken 
up  the  current  of  my  life.  She  must  be  unhappy,  but  I 
do  not  see  why  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  be  unhappy  too." 


298  ANNA  KARtiNlNA. 


XIV. 

ALEKSEI  ALEKSANDROVITCH  on  his  way  back  to  Petersburg 
not  only  fully  decided  on  the  line  of  conduct  which  he  should 
adopt,  but  even  composed  in  his  head  a  letter  to  be  sent  to 
his  wife.  When  he  reached  his  house,  he  glanced  at  the 
official  papers  and  letters  left  in  charge  of  the  Swiss,  and 
ordered  them  to  be  brought  into  the  library.  "  Shut  the 
door,  and  let  no  one  in,"  said  he  in  reply  to  a  question  of 
the  Swiss,  emphasizing  the  last  order  with  some  satisfaction, 
which  was  an  evident  sign  that  he  was  in  a  better  state  of 
mind. 

Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  walked  up  and  down  the  library 
once  or  twice,  cracking  his  knuckles  ;  and  then  coming  to  his 
huge  writing-table,  on  which  his  valet-de-chambre,  before  he 
went  out,  had  placed  six  lighted  candles,  he  sat  down,  and 
began  to  examine  his  writing-materials.  Then,  leaning  his 
elbow  on  the  table,  he  bent  his  head  to  one  side,  and  after  a 
moment  of  reflection  he  began  to  write.  He  wrote  in  French 
without  addressing  her  by  name,  employing  the  pronoun  vons 
[you],  which  seemed  to  him  to  have  less  coldness  and  indif- 
ference than  the  corresponding  character  in  Russian. 

"  At  our  last  interview,  I  expressed  the  intention  of  communicating 
to  you  my  resolution  concerning  the  subject  of  our  conversation. 
After  mature  deliberation,  1  propose  to  fulfil  my  promise.  This  is  my 
decision:  however  improper  your  conduct  may  have  been,  I  do  not 
acknowledge  that  I  have  the  right  to  break  the  bonds  which  a  power 
Supreme  has  consecrated.  The  family  cannot  be  at  the  mercy  of  a 
caprice,  of  an  arbitrary  act,  even  of  the  crime  of  one  of  the  parties; 
and  our  lives  must  remain  unchanged.  This  must  be  so  for  my  sake, 
for  your  sake,  for  the  sake  of  our  son.  I  am  persuaded  that  you  have 
been  penitent,  that  you  still  are  penitent,  for  the  fact  that  obliges  me 
to  write  you;  that  you  will  aid  me  to  destroy,  root  and  branch,  the  cause 
of  our  estrangement,  and  to  forget  the  past.  In  the  opposite  case, 
you  must  comprehend  what  awaits  you,  you  and  your  son.  I  hope  to 
have  a  complete  understanding  with  you  at  our  coming  interview.  As 
the  summer  season  is  nearly  over,  you  would  oblige  me  by  returning 
to  the  city  as  soon  as  possible,  certainly  not  later  than  Tuesday.  All 
the  necessary  measures  for  your  transportation  will  be  taken.  I  beg 
you  to  take  notice  that  I  attach  a  very  particular  importance  to  your 
attention  to  my  demand. 

"A.  KAR^NIN. 

"  P.S.  I  enclose  in  this  letter  money,  which  you  may  need  at  this 
particular  time." 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  299 

• 

He  re- read  his  letter,  and  was  satisfied.  The  sending  of 
the  money  seemed  to  him  a  specially  happy  thought.  There 
was  not  an  angry  word,  not  a  reproach,  neither  was  there 
any  weakness,  in  it.  The  essential  thing  was  the  golden 
bridge  for  their  reconciliation.  He  folded  his  letter,  pressed 
it  with  a  huge  paper-cutter  of  massive  ivory,  enclosed  it  in 
an  envelope  together  with  the  money,  and  rang  the  bell, 
feeling  that  sensation  of  satisfaction  which  the  perfect  work- 
ing of  his  epistolary  arrangements  always  gave  him. 

tk  Give  this  letter  to  the  courier  for  delivery  to  Anna 
Arkadyevna  to-morrow." 

"  I  will  obey  your  excellency.  Will  you  have  tea  here  in 
the  library?  " 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  decided  to  have  his  tea  brought 
to  him  in  the  library  ;  and  then,  still  playing  with  the  paper- 
cutter,  he  went  towards  his  arm-chair,  near  which  was  a 
shaded  lamp,  and  a  French  work  on  cuneiform  inscriptions 
which  he  had  begun.  Above  the  chair,  in  an  oval  gilt  frame, 
hung  a  portrait  of  Anna,  the  excellent  work  of  a  distinguished 
painter.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  looked  at  it.  Two  eyes, 
impenetrable  to  him  as  they  had  been  on  the  evening  of  their 
attempted  explanation,  returned  his  gaze  ironically  and  in- 
solently. Every  thing  about  this  remarkable  portrait  seemed 
to  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  insupportably  insolent  and  pro- 
voking, from  the  black  lace  on  her  head  and  her  dark  hair, 
to  the  white,  beautiful  hands  and  the  slender  fingers  cov- 
ered with  rings.  After  gazing  at  this  portrait  for  a  moment, 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  shuddered,  his  lips  trembled,  and 
with  a  "6rr  "  he  turned  away.  Sitting  down,  he  opened  his 
book.  He  tried  to  read,  but  he  could  not  regain  the  keen  in- 
terest which  he  had  felt  before  in  the  cuneiform  inscriptions. 
His  eyes  looked  at  the  book,  but  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 
He  was  thinking,  not  of  his  wife,  but  of  a  complication  which 
had  recently  arisen  in  important  matters  connected  with  his 
official  business,  and  which  at  present  formed  the  chief  inter- 
est of  his  service.  He  felt  that  he  was  more  than  ever  mas- 
ter of  this  question,  and  that  he  could  without  self-conceit 
claim  that  the  conception  which  had  taken  root  in  his  mind 
in  regard  to  the  causes  of  this  complication,  furnished  the 
method  of  freeing  it  from  all  difficulties,  confirmed  him  in 
his  official  career,  put  down  his  enemies,  and  thus  enabled 
him  to  do  a  signal  service  to  the  state.  As  soon  as  his  ser- 
vant had  brought  his  tea,  and  left  the  room,  Aleksei  Aleksan- 


300  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

• 

drovitch  got  up,  and  went  to  his  writing-table.  He  took  the 
portfolio  which  contained  his  business  papers,  seized  a  pencil, 
and,  with  a  faintly  sarcastic  smile  of  self-satisfaction,  buried 
himself  in  the  perusal  of  the  documents  relative  to  the  diffi- 
culty under  consideration.  The  distinguishing  trait  of  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  as  a  government  official,  —  the  one  charac- 
teristic trait  which  separated  him  from  all  other  government 
employes,  and  which  had  contributed  to  his  success  no  less 
than  his  moderation,  his  uprightness,  and  his  self-confidence, 
—  was  his  thorough-going  detestation  of  "  red  tape,"  and  his 
sincere  desire  to  avoid,  so  far  as  he  could,  unnecessaiy  writ- 
ing, and  to  go  straight  on  in  accomplishing  needful  business 
with  all  expedition  and  economy.  It  happened,  that,  in  the 
famous  Commission  of  the  2d  of  June,  the  question  was  raised 
in  regard  to  the  flooding  of  the  fields  in  the  Government  of 
Zarai,  which  formed  a  part  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's 
jurisdiction  ;  and  this  question  offered  a  striking  example 
of  the  few  results  obtained  by  official  correspondence  and 
expenditure.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  knew  that  it  was  a 
worthy  object.  The  matter  had  come  to  him  by  inheritance 
from  his  predecessor  in  the  ministry,  and,  in  fact,  had  already 
cost  much  mone}7,  and  brought  no  results.  When  he  first 
took  his  place  in  the  ministry,  he  had  wished  immediately  to 
put  his  hand  to  this  work,  but  he  did  not  feel  as  yet  strong 
enough  ;  and  he  perceived  that  it  touched  too  many  interests, 
and  was  imprudent :  then  afterwards,  having  become  involved 
in  other  matters,  he  entirely  forgot  about  it.  The  fertiliza- 
tion of  the  Zarai'  fields,  like  all  things,  went  in  its  own  way 
by  force  of  inertia.  Many  people  got  their  living  through  it, 
and  one  family  in  particular,  a  very  agreeable  and  musical 
family  :  two  of  the  daughters  pla}-ed  on  stringed  instruments. 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  knew  this  family,  and  had  been 
nuptial  godfather1  when  one  of  the  elder  daughters  was 
married. 

The  opposition  to  this  affair,  raised  by  his  enemies  in 
another  branch  of  the  ministry,  was  unjust,  in  the  opinion  of 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  because  in  every  ministry  there 
are  such  cases  of  impropriety  which  no  one  ever  thinks  of 
bothering  with.  But  since  they  had  thrown  down  the  gaunt- 
let, he  had  boldly  accepted  the  challenge  by  demanding  the 
appointment  of  a  special  Commission  for  examining  and 

1  Foxuzhonnui  otets,  —  a  mail  who  lakes  the  father's  place  iu  the  Russian  wedding 
ceremony. 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  301 

verifying  the  labors  of  the  Commissioners  on  the  fertilization 
of  the  Zarai  fields  ;  and  that  he  might  give  no  respite  to 
these  gentlemen,  he  also  demanded  a  special  Commission 
for  investigating  the  status  and  organization  of  the  foreign 
populations.  This  last  question  had  likewise  been  raised  by 
the  Committee  of  the  2d  of  June,  and  was  energetically  sup- 
ported by  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  on  the  ground  that  no 
delay  should  be  allowed  in  relieving  the  deplorable  situation 
of  these  alien  tribes.  The  most  lively  discussion  arose 
among  the  ministries.  The  ministry,  hostile  to  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch, proved  that  the  position  of  the  foreign  popula- 
tions was  flourishing  ;  that  to  meddle  with  them  would  be  to 
injure  their  well-being ;  and  that,  if  any  fault  could  be  found 
in  regard  to  the  matter,  it  was  due  to  the  neglect  of  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  and  his  ministry,  in  not  carrying  out  the 
measures  prescribed  by  law.  In  order  to  avenge  himself, 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  demanded,  first,  the  appointment  of 
a  Committee,  whose  duty  should  be  to  study  on  the  spot  the 
condition  of  the  foreign  populations.  Secondly,  in  case  their 
condition  should  be  found  such  as  the  official  data  in  the 
hands  of  the  Committee  represented,  that  a  new  scientific 
Commission  should  be  sent  to  study  into  the  causes  of  this 
sad  state  of  things,  with  the  aim  of  settling  it  from  the  (a) 
political,  (b)  administrative,  (c)  economical,  (d)  ethnograph- 
ical, (e)  physical,  and  (/)  religious  point  of  view.  Thirdly, 
that  the  hostile  ministry  should  be  required  to  furnish  the 
particulars  in  regard  to  the  measures  taken  during  the  last 
ten  years,  to  relieve  the  wretched  situation  in  which  these 
tribes  were  placed.  And  fourthly  and  finally,  to  explain 
the  fact  that  they  had  acted  in  absolute  contradiction  to  the 
fundamental  and  organic  law,  Volume  T,  page  18,  with 
reference  to  Article  36,  as  was  proved  by  an  act  of  the 
Committee  under  numbers  17,015  and  18,308  of  the  5th  of 
December,  1863,  and  the  7th  of  June,  1804. 

A  flush  of  animation  covered  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's 
face  as  he  rapidly  wrote  down  for  his  own  use  a  digest  of 
these  thoughts.  After  he  had  covered  a  sheet  of  paper,  he 
rang  a  bell,  and  sent  a  messenger  to  the  Chancellor  of  State, 
asking  for  a  few  data  which  were  missing.  Then  he  got  up, 
and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  looking  again  at 
the  portrait  with  a  frown  and  a  scornful  smile.  Then  he 
resumed  his  book  about  the  cuneiform  inscriptions,  and 
found  that  his  interest  of  the  evening  before  had  come  back 


302  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

to  him.  He  went  to  bed  about  eleven  o'clock ;  and  as  he 
lay,  still  awake,  he  passed  in  review  the  events  of  the  day, 
and  they  no  longer  appeared  to  him  in  the  same  gloomy 
aspect. 

XV. 

THOUGH  Anna  obstinately  and  angi'ily  contradicted  Vron- 
sky  when  he  told  her  that  her  position  was  impossible,  yet 
in  the  bottom  of  her  heart  she  felt  that  it  was  false  and  dis- 
honorable, and  she  longed  with  all  her  soul  to  escape  from 
it.  When,  in  a  moment  of  agitation,  she  avowed  all  to  her 
husband  as  they  were  returning  from  the  races,  notwithstand- 
ing the  pain  which  it  cost  her,  she  felt  glad.  After  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  left  her,  she  kept  repeating  to  herself,  that, 
at  least,  all  was  now  explained,  and  that  henceforth  there 
would  be  no  more  need  of  falsehood  and  deception.  This 
new  state  of  things  might  be  bad,  but  it  would  be  definite, 
and  at  least  not  equivocal.  The  pain  which  her  words  had 
cost  her  husband  and  herself  would  have  its  compensation 
in  this  new  state  of  affairs.  That  very  evening  Vronsky 
came  to  see  her,  but  she  did  not  tell  him  what  had  taken 
place  between  her  husband  and  herself,  although  it  was 
needful  to  tell  him,  in  order  that  the  affair  might  be  definitely 
settled. 

The  next  morning  when  she  awoke,  her  first  memory  was 
of  the  words  that  she  had  spoken  to  her  husband ;  and  they 
seemed  to  her  so  odious,  that  she  could  not  imagine  now  how 
she  could  have  brought  herself  to  say  such  brutal  things,  and 
she  could  not  conceive  what  the  result  of  them  would  be. 
But  the  words  were  irrevocable,  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 
had  departed  without  replying.  "  I  have  seen  Vronsky  since, 
and  I  did  not  tell  him.  Even  at  the  moment  that  he  went 
away,  I  wanted  to  hold  him  back,  and  to  speak  ;  but  I  did 
not,  because  I  felt  how  strange  it  was  that  I  did  not  tell  him 
at  the  first  moment.  Why  did  I  have  the  desire,  and  yet  not 
speak?"  And  in  reply  to  this  question,  she  felt  her  face 
burn,  and  she  realized  that  it  was  shame  that  kept  her  from 
speaking.  Her  position,  which  in  the  evening  seemed  to  her 
so  clear,  suddenly  presented  itself  in  its  true  color,  and  more 
inextricable  than  ever.  She  began  to  fear  the  dishonor 
about  which  she  had  not  thought  before.  AVhen  she  con- 
sidered what  her  husband  might  do  to  her,  the  most  terrible 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  303 

ideas  came  to  her  mind.  It  occurred  to  her  that  at  any 
instant  the  sheriff 1  might  appear  to  drive  her  out  of  house 
and  home,  that  her  shame  would  be  proclaimed  to  all  the 
world.  She  asked  herself  where  she  could  go  if  they  drove 
her  from  home,  and  there  was  no  reply. 

When  she  thought  of  Vronsky,  she  imagined  that  he  did 
not  love  her,  and  that  he  was  already  beginning  to  tire  of 
her,  and  that  she  could  not  impose  herself  upon  him,  and 
she  felt  angry  with  him.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  words 
which  she  spoke  to  her  husband,  and  which  she  incessantly 
repeated  to  herself,  were  spoken  so  that  evei'ybody  could 
hear  them,  and  had  heard  them.  She  could  not  bring  her- 
self to  look  in  the  faces  of  those  with  whom  she  lived.  She 
could  not  bring  herself  to  ring  for  her  maid,  and  still  less  to 
go  down  and  meet  her  sou  and  his  governess. 

The  maid  came,  and  stood  long  at  the  door,  listening : 
finally  she  decided  to  go  to  her  without  a  summons.  Anna 
looked  at  her  questioningly,  and  a  look  of  fear  came  into  her 
face.  The  maid  apologized,  saving  that  she  had  come  be- 
cause she  thought  she  heard  the  bell.  She  brought  a  dress 
and  a  note.  The  note  was  from  Betsy,  and  said  that  Liza 
Merkalova  and  the  Baroness  Stolz  with  their  adorers,  Kaluzh- 
sky  and  the  old  man  Stremof ,  were  coming  to  her  house  to- 
day for  a  game  of  croquet.  "  Come  and  look  on,  please,  as 
a  study  of  manners.  1  shall  expect  you,"  was  the  conclusion 
of  the  note. 

Anna* read  the  letter,  and  sighed  profoundly. 

"Nothing,  nothing,  I  need  nothing,"  said  she  to  An- 
nushka,  who  was  arranging  the  toilet- articles  on  her  dressing- 
table.  "  Go  away.  I  will  dress  myself  immediately,  and 
come  down.  I  need  nothing."  * 

Annushka  went  out :  yet  Anna  did  not  begin  to  dress,  but 
sat  in  the  same  attitude,  with  bent  head  and  folded  hands  ; 
and  occasionally  she  would  shiver,  and  begin  to  make  some 
gesture,  to  say  something,  and  then  fall  back  into  listlessness 
again.  She  kept  saying,  "  Bozhe  mo'i!  Bozhe  mo'i!"  but  the 
words  had  no  meaning  in  her  mind.  The  thought  of  seeking 
a  refuge  from  her  situation  in  religion,  although  she  never 
doubted  the  faith  in  which  she  had  been  trained,  seemed 
to  her  as  strange  as  to  go  and  ask  help  of  Alekse'i  Aleksan- 
drovitch  himself.  She  knew  beforehand  that  the  refuge 
offei'ed  by  religion  was  possible  only  by  the  absolute  renun- 

1   Uprurfyaiushc/iy,  —  literally  director,  steward. 


304  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

elation  of  all  that  represented  to  her  the  reason  for  living. 
She  suffered,  and  was  frightened  besides,  by  a  sensation  that 
was  new  to  her  experiences  hitherto,  and  which  seemed  to  her 
to  take  possession  of  her  inmost  soul.  She  seemed  to  feel 
double,  just  as  sometimes  eyes,  when  weary,  see  double.  She 
knew  not  whether  she  feared  the  future,  or  desired  the  past ; 
and  what  she  desired,  she  did  not  know. 

"  Ach!  what  am  I  doing?"  she  cried,  suddenly  feeling  a 
pain  in  both  temples  ;  and  she  discovered  that  she  had  taken 
her  hair  in  her  two  hands,  and  was  pulling  it.  She  got  up, 
and  began  to  walk  the  floor. 

"•  The  coffee  is  served,  and  Mamzd  and  Serozha  are 
waiting,"  said  Annushka,  coming  in  again,  and  finding  her 
mistress  still  undressed. 

"  Serozha?  what  is  Serozha  doing,"  suddenly  asked  Anna, 
remembering,  for  the  first  time  this  morning,  the  existence  of 
her  son. 

"  He  is  naughty,  I  think,"  said  Aunushka. 

"How  naughty?" 

"He  took  one  of  the  peaches  from  the  corner  cupboard, 
and  ate  it  all  by  himself,  as  it  seems." 

The  thought  of  her  son  suddenly  called  Anna  from  the 
impassive  state  in  which  she  had  been  sunk.  The  sincere, 
though  somewhat  exaggerated,  role  of  devoted  mother,  which 
she  had  taken  upon  herself  for  a  number  of  years,  came  back 
to  her  mind,  and  she  felt  that  in  this  relationship  she  had  a 
stand-point  independent  of  her  relation  to  her  husband  and 
Vronsky.  This  stand-point  was  —  her  son.  In  whatever 
situation  she  might  be  placed,  they  would  not  deprive  her  of 
him.  Her  husband  might  drive  her  from  him,  and  put  her  to 
shame  ;  Vronsky  might  turn  his  back  upon  her,  and  resume  his 
former  independent  life,  —  and  here  again  she  felt  the  feeling 
of  bitter  reproach,  —  but  she  could  not  leave  her  son.  She  had 
an  aim  in  life  ;  and  she  must  act,  act  at  once,  and  take  every 
measure  to  preserve  her  relation  towards  him,  so  that  they 
could  not  take  him  from  her.  She  must  take  her  son,  and 
go  off.  She  must  calm  herself,  and  get  away  from  this  tor- 
menting situation.  The  very  thought  of  an  action  having 
reference  to  her  son,  and  of  going  away  with  him,  no  one 
knows  where,  already  gave  her  consolation. 

She  dressed  in  haste,  went  down-stairs  with  firm  steps,  and 
entered  the  parlor,  where,  as  usual,  she  found  lunch  ready, 
and  Serozha  and  the  governess  waiting  for  her.  Serozha, 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  305 

all  in  white,  was  standing  with  bended  head  near  a  table 
under  the  window,  with  the  expression  of  concentrated  atten- 
tion which  she  knew  so  well,  and  in  which  he  resembled  his 
father.  Bending  over,  he  was  busy  with  some  flowers  that 
he  had  brought  in. 

The  governess  put  on  a  very  stern  expression.  Serozha, 
as  soon  as  he  saw  his  mother,  uttered  a  sharp  cry,  which  was  a 
frequent  custom  of  his,  —  "Ah,  mamma  !  "  Then  he  stopped, 
undecided  whether  to  run  to  his  mother,  and  let  the  flowers 
go,  or  to  finish  his  bouquet,  and  to  go  with  them. 

The  governess  bowed,  and  began  a  long  and  circumstantial 
account  of  the  naughtiness  that  Serozha  had  committed  ;  but 
Anna  did  not  hear  her.  She  was  thinking  whether  she  should 
take  her  with  them.  "  No,  I  will  not.  I  will  go  alone  with 
my  son." 

"Yes,  he  is  very  naughty,"  said  Anna;  and,  taking  the 
boy  by  the  shoulder,  she  looked  at  him  with  a  gentle,  not 
angry,  face,  and  kissed  him.  "  Leave  him  with  me,"  said  she 
to  the  wondering  governess  ;  and,  not  letting  go  his  arm,  she 
sat  down  to  the  table  where  the  coffee  was  waiting. 

"Mamma  —  I  —  I — didn't,"  stammered  Serozha,  trying 
to  judge  by  his  mother's  expression  what  fate  was  in  store 
for  him  after  the  peach. 

"Serozha,"  she  said  as  soon  as  the  governess  had  left  the 
room,  "  this  was  naughty.  You  will  not  do  it  again,  will  you  ? 
Do  you  love  me  ?  " 

She  felt  that  the  tears  were  standing  in  her  eyes.  "Can  I 
not  love  him?"  she  asked  herself,  touched  by  the  boy's 
happy  and  radiant  face.  "And  can  he  join  with  his  father  to 
punish  me?  Will  he  not  have  pity  on  me?"  The  tears 
began  to  course  down  her  face  ;  and,  in  order  to  hide  them, 
she  got  up  quickly,  and  hastened,  almost  running,  to  the  ter- 
race. 

Clear,  cool  weather  had  succeeded  the  stormy  rains  of  the 
last  few  days. 

In  spite  of  the  warm  sun  which  shone  on  the  thick  foliage 
of  the  trees,  it  was  cool  in  the  shade. 

She  shivered  both  from  the  coolness  and  from  the  senti- 
ment of  fear  which  seized  her  with  new  force. 

"Go,  go  and  find  Mariette,"  said  she  to  Serozha,  who 
had  followed  her ;  and  then  she  began  to  walk  up  and  down 
on  the  straw  carpet  which  covered  the  terrace.  She  stopped 
and  looked  at  the  tops  of  the  aspens,  washed  bright  by  the 


306  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

rain,  which  were  gleaming  in  the  warm  sun.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  every  thing,  this  sky  and  this  foliage,  was  without 
pity  for  her.  Arid  again,  as  before  breakfast,  she  felt  that 
mysterious  sense  in  her  inmost  soul  that  she  was  iu  a  dual 
state. 

tkl  must  not,  must  not  think,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I 
must  have  courage.  Where  shall  I  go?  When?  Whom 
shall  I  take?  Da!  to  Moscow  by  the  evening  train,  with 
Annushka  and  Serozha  and  only  the  most  necessary  things. 
But  first  I  must  write  to  them  both."  And  she  hurried 
back  into  the  house  to  her  library,  sat  down  at  the  table,  and 
wrote  her  husband, — 

"After  what  has  passed,  I  cannot  longer  remain  in  your 
house.  I  am  going  away,  and  I  shall  take  my  son.  I  do  not 
know  the  laws,  and  so  I  do  not  know  with  which  of  us  the 
child  should  remain  ;  but  I  take  him  with  me,  because  with- 
out him  I  cannot  live.  Be  generous :  let  me  have  him." 

Till  this  moment  she  wrote  rapidly  and  naturally ;  but  this 
appeal  to  a  generosity  which  she  had  never  seen  in  him, 
and  the  need  of  ending  her  letter  with  something  affecting, 
brought  her  to  a  halt. 

"1  cannot  speak  of  my  fault  and  my  repentance,  be- 
cause " —  Again  she  stopped,  unable  to  find  the  right  words. 
"No,"  she  said,  "I  can  say  nothing;"  and,  tearing  up  this 
letter,  she  began  another,  in  which  she  excluded  any  appeal 
to  his  generosity. 

She  had  to  write  a  second  letter,  to  Vronsky.  "I  have 
confessed  to  my  husband,"  she  began  ;  and  she  sat  long  in 
thought,  without  being  able  to  write  more.  This  was  so 
coarse,  so  unfeminine  !  "And  then,  what  can  I  write  to 
him?"  Again  she  felt  her  face  burn  as  she  remembered 
how  calm  he  was,  and  she  felt  so  vexed  with  him  that  she 
tore  the  note  into  little  bits.  "•  I  cannot  write,"  she  said  to 
herself :  and,  closing  her  desk,  she  went  up-stairs  to  tell  the 
governess  and  the  domestics  that  she  was  going  to  Moscow 
that  evening ;  and  she  began  to  make  her  preparations. 


XVI. 

IN  all  the  rooms  of  the  datcha,  the  dvorniks,  the  gardeners, 
the  valets,  were  packing  up  the  things.  Cupboards  and  com- 
modes were  cleared  of  their  contents.  Twice  they  had  gone 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  307 

to  the  shop  for  packing-cord  ;  half  the  things  were  wrapped 
up  in  newspapers.  Two  trunks,  travelling-bags,  and  a  bun- 
dle of  plaids,  were,  standing  in  the  hall.  A  carriage  and  two 
izvoshchiks  were  waiting  in  front  of  the  house.  Anna,  who  in 
the  haste  of  departure  had  somewhat  forgotten  her  torment, 
was  standing  by  her  library-table,  and  packing  her  bag, 
when  Annushka  called  her  attention  to  the  rumble  of  a  car- 
riage approaching  the  house.  Anna  looked  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  saw  on  the  steps  Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch's  courier 
ringing  the  front-door  bell. 

"Go  and  see  who  it  is,"  said  she,  and  then  sat  down  in 
her  chair ;  and,  folding  her  hands  on  her  knees,  she  waited 
with  calm  resignation.  A  lackey  brought  her  a  fat  packet 
directed  in  the  handwriting  of  Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch. 

"  The  courier  was  ordered  to  wait  an  answej,"  said  he. 

"  Very  well,"  she  replied  ;  and  as  soon  as  he  left  the  room 
she  opened  the  packet  with  trembling  fingers.  A  roll  of 
fresh,  new  bank-notes,  in  a  wrapper,  fell  out  first.  But  she 
unfolded  the  letter  and  read  it,  beginning  at  the  end.  "  All 
the  necessary  measures  for  your  transportation  will  be  taken. 
...  I  attach  a  very  particular  importance  to  your  attention 
to  my  demand,"  she  read.  She  took  it  up  a  second  time, 
read  it  all  through,  and  once  and  again  she  read  it  from 
beginning  to  end.  When  she  was  through,  she  felt  chilled,  and 
had  the  consciousness  that  some  terrible  and  unexpected 
weight  was  crushing  her  which  she  could  not  throw  off. 

That  very  morning  she  regretted  her  confession,  and  would 
gladh*  have  taken  back  her  words.  But  this  letter  treated 
her  words  as  though  they  had  not  been  spoken, — gave  her 
what  she  desired.  And  yet  it  seemed  to  her  more  cruel  than 
any  thing  that  she  could  have  imagined. 

"  Right,  he  is  right !  "  she  murmured.  "  Of  course  he  is 
always  right:  he  is  a  Christian,  he  is  magnanimous!  Nu! 
the  low,  vile  man  !  No  one  understands,  no  one  knows,  him 
but  me  ;  and  I  cannot  explain  it.  People  say,  '  He  is  a 
religious,  moral,  upright,  honorable,  intellectual  man.'  But 
they  have  not  seen  what  I  have  seen  ;  they  don't  know  how 
for  eight  years  he  has  crushed  my  life,  crushed  every  thing 
that  was  vital  in  me  ;  how  he  has  never  once  thought  of  me 
as  a  living  woman  who  must  love.  They  don't  know  how  at 
every  step  he  has  insulted  me.  and  was  all  the  more  self-sat- 
isfied. Have  I  not  striven  with  all  my  powers  to  lead  a  use- 
ful life  ?  Have  I  not  done  my  best  to  love  him,  to  love  his 


308  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

son  when  I  could  not  love  my  husband  ?  But  the  time  came 
when  I  could  no  longer  deceive  myself.  I  find  that  I  am  a 
living  being  ;  that  I  am  not  to  blame  ;  that  God  has  made 
me  so;  that  I  must  love  and  live.  And  now  what?  He 
might  kill  me,  he  might  kill  him,  and  I  could  understand,  I 
could  forgive  it.  But  no,  he  — 

"  Why  should  I  not  have  foreseen  what  he  would  do?  He 
does  exactly  in  accordance  with  his  despicable  character  : 
he  stands  upon  his  rights.  But  I,  poor  unfortunate,  am 
sunk  lower  and  more  irreclaimably  than  ever  towards  ruin. 
'  You  must  comprehend  what  awaits  you,  you  and  your  son,'  ' 
she  repeated  to  herself,  remembering  a  sentence  in  his  letter. 
"It  is  a  threat  that  he  means  to  rob  me  of  my  son,  and 
doubtless  their  wretched  laws  allow  it.  But,  indeed,  I  do 
not  see  why  he  said  that.  He  has  no  belief  in  my  love  for 
my  son  ;  or  else  he  is  deriding  —  as  he  always  does,  in  his 
sarcastic  manner — is  deriding  this  feeling  of  mine,  for  he 
knows  that  I  will  not  abandon  my  son  —  I  cannot  abandon 
him  ;  that  without  my  son,  life  would  be  unsupportable,  even 
with  him  whom  I  love  ;  and  that  to  abandon  my  son,  and 
leave  him,  I  should  fall,  like  the  worst  of  women.  This  he 
knows,  and  knows  that  I  should  never  have  the  power  to  do 
so.  'Our  lives  must  remain  unchanged,'  "  she  continued, 
remembering  another  sentence  in  the  letter.  "  This  life  was 
a  torture  before  ;  but  as  time  went  on,  it  became  worse  than 
ever.  What  will  it  be  now?  And  he  knows  all  this, — 
knows  that  I  cannot  repent  because  I  breathe,  because  I 
love  ;  he  knows  that  nothing  except  falsehood  and  deceit  can 
result  from  this  :  but  he  must  needs  prolong  my  torture.  I 
know  him,  and  I  know  that  he  swims  in  perjury  like  a  fish  in 
water.  But  no :  I  will  not  give  him  this  pleasure.  I  will 
break  this  network  of  lies  in  which  he  wants  to  enwrap  me. 
Come  what  ma}*,  any  thing  is  better  than  lies. 

' '  But  how  ?  Bozhe  tno'i !  Sozhe  moi  I  Was  there  ever 
woman  so  unhappy  as  I? 

"  No,  I  will  break  it!  I  will  break  it!  "  she  cried,  striv- 
ing to  keep  back  the  tears  that  would  come.  And  she  went 
to  her  writing-table  to  begin  another  letter.  But  in  the  low- 
est depths  of  her  soul  she  felt  that  she  had  not  the  power  to 
break  the  network  of  circumstances,  —  that  she  had  not  the 
power  to  escape  from  the  situation  in  which  she  was  placed, 
false  and  dishonorable  though  it  was. 

She  sat  down  at  the  table ;   but,  instead  of  writing,  she 


ANNA   K  A  It  £  NINA.  309 

folded  her  arms  on  the  table,  and  bowed  her  head  upon 
them,  and  began  to  weep  like  a  child,  with  heaving  breast 
and  convulsive  sobs.  She  wept  because  her  visions  about 
the  new  order  of  things  had  vanished  forever.  She  knew 
that  now  all  things  would  go  on  as  before,  and  even  worse 
than  before.  She  felt  that  her  position  in  society,  which  she 
had  slighted,  and  but  a  short  time  before  counted  as  dross, 
was  dear  to  her ;  that  she  should  never  have  the  strength  to 
abandon  it  for  the  shameful  position  of  a  woman  who  has 
deserted  her  husband  and  son,  and  joined  her  lover.  She 
felt  that  she  should  never  be  stronger  than  herself  and  her 
prejudices.  She  never  would  know  what  freedom  to  love 
meant,  but  would  be  always  a  guilty  woman,  constantly 
threatened  by  surprise,  deceiving  her  husband  for  the  dis- 
graceful society  of  an  independent  stranger,  with  whose  life 
she  could  never  join  hers.  She  knew  that  this  would  be  so,  and 
yet  at  the  same  time  it  was  so  terrible  that  she  could  not  ac- 
knowledge, even  to  herself,  how  it  would  end.  And  she  wept, 
pouring  out  her  heart  as  a  child  sobs  who  has  been  punished. 

The  steps  of  a  lackey  approaching  made  her  tremble  ;  and, 
hiding  from  him  her  face,  she  pretended  to  be  writing. 

"  The  courier  would  like  his  answer,"  said  the  lackey. 

"  His  answer?  Oh,  yes ! "  said  Anna.  "Let  him  wait. 
I  will  ring. 

"  What  can  I  write?"  she  asked  herself.  "  How  decide 
by  myself  alone?  What  do  I  know?  What  do  I  want? 
Whom  do  I  love?  "  Again  it  seemed  to  her  that  in  her  soul 
she  felt  the  dual  nature.  She  drove  this  thought  away,  and 
seized  upon  the  first  duty  that  lay  at  hand,  so  that,  by  forget- 
ting herself,  she  might  not  think  of  this  dual  nature,  which 
terrified  her. 

"I  must  see  Alekse"i "  (thus  in  thought  she  called 
Vronsky)  :  "he  alone  can  tell  me  what  I  must  do.  I  will 
go  to  Betsy's.  Perhaps  I  shall  find  him  there."  She 
completely  forgot  that  on  the  evening  before,  when  she  told 
him  that  she  was  not  going  to  the  Princess  Tverskaia's,  he 
said  that  he  had  no  wish  to  go  there  either. 

She  went  to  the  table  again,  and  wrote  her  husband,  — 

"  I  have  received  your  letter.  A." 

She  rang,  and  gave  it  to  the  lackey. 

"  We  are  not  going,"  said  she  to  Annushka,  who  was 
just  coming  in. 


310  ANNA   KAEfiNINA. 

"  Not  going  at  all?  " 

"No,  but  don't  unpack  before  to-morrow;  and  have  the 
carriage  wait.     I  am  going  to  the  princess's." 
"  What  dress  shall  you  wear?  " 


XVII. 

THE  company  which  was  to  meet  at  the  Princess  Tver- 
skaia's,  where  Anna  was  invited,  was  made  up  of  two  ladies 
and  their  adorers.  These  two  ladies  were  the  leading  repre- 
sentatives of  a  new  and  exclusive  coterie  in  Petersburg,  and 
called,  in  imitation  of  an  imitation,  les  sept  merveilles  du  monde 
[the  seven  wonders  of  the  world].  Both  of  them  belonged 
to  the  highest  society,  but  to  a  circle  absolutely  hostile  to 
that  in  which  Anna  moved.  The  old  Stremof,  one  of  the 
influential  men  of  the  city,  and  Liza  Merkalova's  lover, 
belonged  to  the  faction  hostile  to  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch. 
Anna,  on  account  of  this  hostility,  did  not  care  to  go  to 
Betsy's,  and  therefore  declined  her  invitation  ;  but  now  she 
decided  to  go,  hoping  to  find  Vronsky  there. 

She  reached  the  Princess  Tverskaia's  before  the  other 
guests. 

The  moment  that  she  arrived,  Vronsky 's  valet,  who  with 
his  curly  whiskers  might  have  been  taken  for  a  hammer- 
junker,  was  at  the  door,  and.  raising  his  cap,  he  stepped  aside 
to  let  her  pass.  When  she  saw  him  she  remembered  that 
Vronsky  had  told  her  that  he  was  not  coming,  and  judged 
that  he  had  sent  his  excuses.  As  she  was  taking  off  her 
wraps  in  the  hall,  she  heard  the  valet,  who  rolled  his  r's  like 
a  kammer-jvnker,  say,  "From  the  count  to  the  princess." 
It  occurred  to  her  to  ask  him  where  his  barin  was.  It  oc- 
curred to  her  to  go  back  and  write  him  a  note,  asking  him 
to  come  to  her,  or  to  go  and  find  him  herself.  But  she  could 
not  follow  out  any  of  these  plans,  for  the  bell  had  already 
announced  her  presence,  and  one  of  the  princess's  lackeys 
was  waiting  at  the  door  to  usher  her  into  the  rooms  beyond. 

u  The  princess  is  in  the  garden.  Word  has  been  sent  to 
her,"  said  a  second  lackey  in  the  second  room. 

Her  position  of  uncertainty,  of  darkness,  was  just  the  same 
as  at  home.  It  was  worse  rather,  because  she  could  not 
make  any  decision,  she  could  not  see  Vronsky,  and  she  was 
obliged  to  remain  in  the  midst  of  strange  and  lively  society, 


ANNA   KARtiNlNA.  311 

diametrically  opposed  to  her.  But  she  wore  a  toilet  which 
she  knew  was  very  becoming.  She  was  not  alone  :  she  was 
surrounded  by  that  solemn  atmosphere  of  indolence  so  famil- 
iar ;  and,  on  the  whole,  it  was  better  to  be  there  than  at  home. 
She  would  not  be  obliged  to  think  what  she  would  do. 
Things  would  arrange  themselves. 

Betsy  came  to  meet  her  in  a  white  toilet  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite elegance  ;  and  she  greeted  her,  as  usual,  with  a  smile. 
The  Princess  Tverskaia  was  accompanied  by  Tushkie'vitch, 
and  a  young  relative  who,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  provin- 
cial family  to  which  she  belonged,  was  spending  the  summer 
with  the  famous  princess. 

Apparently  there  was  something  unnatural  in  Anna's  ap- 
pearance, for  Betsy  immediately  remarked  upon  it. 

"I  did  not  sleep  well,"  replied  Anna,  looking  furtively 
at  the  lackey,  who  was  coming,  as  she  supposed,  to  bring  the 
princess  Vronsky's  note. 

"  How  glad  I  am  that  you  came  !  "  said  Betsy.  "  I  am  just 
up,  and  1  should  like  to  have  a  cup  of  tea  before  the  others 
come.  And  you,"  she  said,  addressing  Tushkievitch,  "  had 
better  go  with  Maska  and  try  the  kroket-gro-tind,  which  has 
just  been  clipped.  We  will  have  time  to  talk  a  little  while 
taking  our  tea.  We'll  have  a  coscy  chat,  won't  we?"  she 
added  in  English,  addressing  Anna  with  a  smile,  and  taking 
her  hand. 

"  All  the  more  willingly,  because  I  can't  stay  long.  I 
must  call  on  old  Vrede  :  I  have  been  promising  for  a  hundred 
years  to  come  and  see  her,"  said  Anna,  to  whom  the  lie, 
though  contrary  to  her  nature,  seemed  not  only  simple  and 
easy,  but  even  pleasurable.  Why  she  said  a  thing  that  she 
forgot  the  second  after,  she  herself  could  not  have  told  ; 
she  said  it  at  haphazard,  so  that,  in  case  Vronsky  were  not 
coming,  she  might  have  a  way  of  escape,  and  find  him  else- 
where :  and  why  she  happened  to  select  the  name  of  old 
Freilina  Vrede  rather  than  any  other  of  her  acquaintances 
was  likewise  inexplicable.  But,  as  events  proved,  out  of  all 
the  possible  schemes  for  meeting  Vronsky,  this  was  the 
best. 

"  No,  I  shall  not  let  you  go,"  replied  Betsy,  scrutinizing 
Anna's  face.  "  Indeed,  if  I  were  not  so  fond  of  you,  I 
should  be  tempted  to  be  vexed  with  you  :  anybody  would 
think  that  you  were  afraid  of  my  compromising  you.  —  Tea 
in  the  little  salon,  if  you  please,"  said  she  to  the  lackey, 


312  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

with  a  snap  of  the  eyes  such  as  was  habitual  with  her ;  and, 
taking  the  letter,  she  began  to  read  it. 

"Aleksei  disappoints  us  (Alexis  nous  fait  faux  bond). 
He  writes  that  he  cannot  come,"  said  she  in  French,  and 
in  a  tone  as  simple  and  unaffected  as  though  it  had  never 
entered  her  mind  that  Vronsky  was  of  any  more  interest  to 
Anna  than  as  a  possible  partner  in  a  game  of  croquet. 
Anna  knew  that  Betsy  knew  all ;  but,  as  she  heard  Betsy 
speak  of  him  now,  she  almost  brought  herself  to  believe  for 
a  moment  that  she  did  not  know. 

"Ah!"  she  said  simply,  as  though  it  was  a  detail  that 
did  not  interest  her.  "  How,"  she  continued,  still  smiling, 
"  could  your  society  compromise  me?  " 

This  manner  of  hiding  a  secret,  this  playing  with  words, 
had  for  Anna,  as  it  has  for  all  women,  a  great  charm.  And 
it  was  not  the  necessity  of  secrecy,  or  the  reason  for  secrecy, 
but  the  process  itself,  that  gave  the  pleasure. 

"I  cannot  be  more  Catholic  than  the  Pope,"  she  said. 
"  Stremof  and  Liza  Merkalova,  they  are  the  cream  of  the 
cream  of  society.  They  are  received  everywhere.  But  /" — 
she  laid  special  stress  on  the  / —  "  I  have  never  been  severe 
and  intolerant.  I  simply  have  not  had  time." 

"  No.  But  perhaps  you  prefer  not  to  meet  Stremof  ? 
Let  him  break  lances  with  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  in  com- 
mittee-meetings :  that  does  not  concern  us.  But  in  society 
he  is  as  lovely  a  man  as  I  know,  and  a  terrible  hand  at 
croquet.  But  you  shall  see  him.  And  you  must  see  how 
well  he  plays  the  absurd  part  of  old  lover  to  Liza.  He  is 
very  charming.  Don't  you  know  Safo  Stoltz?  She —  is  the 
latest,  absolutely  the  latest  style." 

While  Betsy  was  saying  these  words,  Anna  perceived,  by 
her  joyous,  intelligent  eyes,  that  she  saw  her  embarrassment, 
and  was  trying  to  put  her  at  her  ease.  They  had  gone  into 
the  little  library. 

"  I  must  write  a  word  to  Aleksei."  And  Betsy  sat  down 
at  her  writing-table,  and  hastily  penned  a  few  lines.  Then 
she  took  out  an  envelope.  "  I  wrote  him  to  come  to  dinner. 
One  of  my  ladies  has  no  partner.  See  if  I  am  imperative 
enough.  Excuse  me  if  I  leave  you  a  moment.  Please  seal 
it  and  direct  it :  I  have  some  arrangements  to  make." 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  Anna  took  Betsy's  seat  at 
the  table,  and  added  these  words  to  her  note  :  "I  must  see 
you  without  fail.  Come  to  the  Vrede  Garden.  I  will  be 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  313 

there  at  six  o'clock."  She  sealed  the  letter;  and  Betsy, 
coming  a  moment  later,  despatched  it  at  once. 

The  two  ladies  took  their  tea  in  the  cool  little  salon,  and 
had  indeed  a  cosey  chat.  They  talked  about  the  coming 
guests,  and  expressed  their  judgments  upon  them,  beginning 
with  Liza  Merkalova. 

"She  is  very  charming,  and  I  have  always  liked  her," 
said  Anna. 

"  You  ought  to  like  her.  She  adores  you.  Yesterday 
evening,  after  the  races,  she  came  to  see  me,  and  was  in 
despair  not  to  find  you.  She  says  that  you  are  a  genuine 
heroine  of  a  romance,  and  that  if  she  were  a  man,  she  would 
commit  a  thousand  follies  for  your  sake.  Stremof  told  her 
she  did  that,  even  as  she  was." 

"  But  explain  to  me  one  thing  that  I  never  understood," 
said  Anna,  after  a  moment  of  silence,  and  in  a  tone  that 
clearh"  showed  that  she  did  hot  ask  an  idle  question,  but  that 
what  she  wanted  explained  was  more  serious  than  would  ap- 
pear. "Explain  to  me,  what  are  the  relations  between  her 
and  Prince  Kaluzhsky,  the  man  that  they  call  Mishka.  I 
have  rarely  seen  them  together.  What  is  their  relation  ?  ' ' 

A  look  of  amusement  came  into  Betsy's  eyes,  and  she 
looked  keenly  at  Anna. 

"It's  a  new  kind,"  she  replied.  "All  these  ladies  have 
adopted  it." 

"  Yes,  but  what  are  her  relations  with  Kaluzhsky?" 

Betsy,  to  Anna's  surprise,  broke  into  a  gale  of  irresistible 
laughter. 

"  But  you  are  trespassing  on  the  Princess  Miagkai'a's  prov- 
ince :  it  is  the  question  of  an  enfant  terrible."  said  Betsy,  try- 
ing in  vain  to  restrain  her  gayety,  but  again  breaking  out  into 
that  contagious  laughter  which  is  the  peculiarity  of  people 
who  rarely  laugh.  "But  you  must  ask  them,"  she  at  length 
managed  to  say,  with  the  tears  running  down  her  cheeks. 

"  Nu!  you  laugh,"  said  Anna,  in  spite  of  herself  joining 
in  her  friend's  amusement ;  "  but  I  have  never  been  able  to 
understand  it  at  all,  and  I  don't  understand  what  rdle  the 
husband  plays." 

"The  husband?  Liza  Merkalova's  husband  carries  her 
plaid,  and  is  always  at  her  beck  and  call.  But  the  real 
meaning  of  the  affair  no  one  cares  to  know." 

"Are  you  going  to  Rolaudaki's  fmzdnik?  "  [festival], 
said  Anna,  wishing  to  change  the  conversation. 


314  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Betsy  ;  and  not  looking  at  her 
companion,  she  carefully  poured  the  fragrant  tea  into  little 
transparent  cups.  Then,  having  handed  one  to  Anna,  she 
rolled  a  cigarette,  and  putting  it  into  a  silver  holder  she 
began  to  smoke. 

"  You  see,  my  position  is  the  best,"  she  began  seriously, 
holding  her  cup  in  her  hand.  "  I  understand  you,  and  I  un- 
derstand Liza.  Liza  is  one  of  these  na'ive,  childlike  natures, 
who  cannot  distinguish  between  ill  and  good,  —  at  least,  she 
was  so  when  she  was  young,  and  now  she  knows  that  this 
simplicity  is  becoming  to  her.  Now  perhaps  she  is  na'ioe  on 
purpose,"  said  Betsy  with  a  cunning  smile.  "  But  all  the 
same,  it  becomes  her.  You  see,  some  people  look  on  life  from 
its  tragic  side,  and  make  themselves  miserable  ;  and  others 
look  on  it  simply,  and  even  gayly.  Possibly  you  are  inclined 
to  look  on  things  too  tragically." 

"  How  I  should  like  to  know  others  as  well  as  I  know 
myself  !  "  said  Anna  with  a  serious  and  pensive  look.  "Am 
I  worse  than  others,  or  better?  Worse,  I  think." 

"You  are  like  a  child,  an  enfant  terrible,"  was  Betsy's 
comment.  "  But  here  they  are  !  " 


XVIII. 

STEPS  were  heard,  and  a  man's  voice,  then  a  woman's 
voice  and  laughter,  and  immediately  after  the  expected 
guests  came  in,  —  Safo  Stoltz,  and  a  young  man  called  Vaska 
for  short,  whose  face  shone  with  exuberant  health.  It  was 
evident  that  truffles,  burgundy,  and  rich  blood-making  viands 
had  accomplished  their  perfect  work.  Vaska  bowed  to  the 
two  ladies  as  he  came  in,  but  the  glance  which  he  vouchsafed 
them  lasted  only  a  second.  He  followed  Safo  into  the  draw- 
ing-room, and  he  followed  her  through  the  drawing-room,  as 
though  he  had  been  tied  to  her,  and  he  kept  his  brilliant 
eyes  fastened  upon  her  as  though  he  wished  to  devour  her. 
Safo  Stoltz  was  a  blonde  with  black  eyes.  She  wore  shoes 
with  enormoush"  high  heels,  and  she  came  in  with  slow,  vig- 
orous steps,  and  shook  hands  energetically,  like  a  man. 

Anna  had  never  before  met  with  this  new  celebrity,  and 
was  struck,  not  only  by  her  beauty,  but  by  the  extravagance 
of  her  toilet  and  the  boldness  of  her  manners.  On  her 
head  was  a  veritable  scaffolding  of  false  and  natural  hair  of 


ANNA  KAEfiNINA.  315 

a  lovely  golden  hue,  and  of  a  height  corresponding  to  the 
mighty  proportions  of  her  protuberant  and  very  visible 
bosom.  Her  dress  was  so  tightly  pulled  back,  that  at  every 
movement  it  outlined  the  shape  of  her  limbs  ;  and  involun- 
tarily the  question  arose,  where  under  this  enormous,  totter- 
ing mountain,  did  her  neat  little  body,  so  exposed  above, 
and  so  tightly  laced  below,  really  end  ? 

Betsy  made  haste  to  present  her  to  Anna. 

"  Can  you  imagine  it?  We  almost  ran  over  two  soldiers," 
she  began  instantly,  winking,  smiling,  and  kicking  back  her 
train.  "  I  was  coming  with  Vaska —  Ach,da!  You  are 
not  acquainted."  And  she  introduced  the  young  man  by 
his  family  name,"  laughing  at  her  mistake  in  calling  him 
Vaska  before  strangers.  Vaska  bowed  a  second  time  to 
Anna,  but  said  nothing  to  her.  He  turned  to  Safo.  "  The 
wager  is  lost.  We  came  first,"  said  he.  "•  You  must  pay." 

Safo  laughed  still  more. 

"  Not  now,  though." 

"  All  right :  I'll  take  it  by  and  by." 

"Very  well,  very  well!  Ach,da!"  she  suddenly  cried 
out  to  the  khozyd'ika  (the  hostess).  "I —  [  forgot  —  stupid 
that  I  was  !  I  bring  you  a  guest :  here  he  is." 

The  young  guest  whom  Safo  presented,  after  having  for- 
gotten him,  was  a  guest  of  such  importance,  that,  notwith- 
standing his  youth,  all  the  ladies  rose  to  receive  him. 

This  was  Safo's  new  adorer ;  and,  just  as  Vaska  did,  he 
followed  her  every  step. 

Immediately  after  came  Prince  Kaluzhsky  and  Liza  Mer- 
kalova  with  Stremof.  Liza  was  a  rather  thin  brunette,  with 
an  Oriental,  indolent  type  of  countenance,  and  with  ravish- 
ing, and  as  everybody  said,  impenetrable,  eyes.  The  style 
of  her  dark  dress  was  absolutely  in  keeping  with  her  beauty. 
Anna  noticed  it,  and  approved'.  Liza  was  as  quiet  and  un- 
pretentious as  S#fo  was  loud  and  obstreperous. 

But  Liza,  for  Anna's  taste,  was  vastly  more  attractive. 
Betsy,  in  speaking  of  her  to  Anna,  ridiculed  her  affectation 
of  the  manner  of  an  innocent  child  ;  but  when  Anna  saw  her, 
she  felt  that  this  was  not  fair.  Liza  was  really  an  innocent, 
gentle,  and  sweet-tempered  woman,  a  little  spoiled.  To  be 
sure,  her  morals  were  the  same  as  Safo's.  She  also  had  in 
her  train  two  adorers,  one  young,  the  other  old,  who  de- 
voured her  with  their  eyes.  But  there  was  something  about 
her  better  than  her  surroundings  :  she  was  like  a  diamond  of 


316  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

the  purest  water  surrounded  by  glass.  The  brilliancy  shone 
out  of  her  lovely,  enigmatical  eyes.  The  wearied  and  yet 
passionate  look  of  her  eyes,  surrounded  by  dark  circles, 
struck  one  by  its  absolute  sincerity.  Any  one  looking  into 
their  depths  would  seem  to  know  her  completely  ;  and  to 
know  her,  was  to  love  her.  At  the  sight  of  Anna,  her  face 
suddenly  lighted  up  with  a  happy  smile. 

"  Ach !  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you  !  "  she  said,  as  she  went 
up  to  her.  "Yesterday  afternoon  at  the  races  1  wanted  to 
get  to  you,  but  you  had  just  gone.  I  was  so  anxious  to  see 
you  yesterday  especially  !  Too  bad,  wasn't  it?"  said  she, 
gazing  at  Anna  with  a  look  which  seemed  to  disclose  her 
whole  soul. 

"  Da!  I  never  would  have  believed  that  any  thing  could 
be  so  exciting,"  replied  Anna  with  some  color. 

The  company  no\y  began  to  get  read}-  to  go  to  the  lawn. 

"  I  am  not  going,"  said  Liza,  sitting  down  near  Anna. 
"You  aren't  going,  are  you?  What  pleasure  can  anyone 
find  in  croquet  ? ' ' 

"But  I  am  ver}T  fond  of  it,"  said  Anna. 

"  Vot!  how  is  it  that  you  don't  get  ennuyeeJ  To  look  at 
you  is  a  joy.  Y"ou  live,  but  I  vegetate." 

' '  How  vegetate  ?  Da !  they  say  you  have  the  gayest 
society  in  Petersburg,"  said  Anna. 

"Perhaps  those  who  are  not  of  our  circle  are  still  more 
ennnyee.  But  we,  it  seems  to  me,  are  not  happy,  but  are 
bored,  terribly  bored." 

Safo  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  went  to  the  lawn  with  the  two 
young  people.  Betsy  and  Stremof  staid  at  the  tea-table. 

"How  bored?"  asked  Betsy.  "  Safo  says  she  had  a 
delightful  evening  with  you  yesterday." 

'•'•Ach!  how  unendurable  it  was  !  "  said  Liza.  "  They  all 
came  to  my  house  after  the  races,  and  it  was  all  so  utterly 
monotonous.  They  sat  on  sofas  the  whole,  evening.  How 
could  that  be  delightful  ?  No  ;  but  what  do  you  do  to  keep 
from  being  bored?"  she  asked  again  of  Anna.  "It  is 
enough  to  look  at  you  !  Y"ou  are  evidently  a  woman  who 
can  be  happy  or  unhappy,  but  never  ennuyee.  Now  explain 
what  you  do.  " 

'•J  don't  do  any  thing,"  said  Anna,  confused  by  these  per- 
sistent questions. 

"  That  is  the  best  way,"  said  Stremof,  joining  the  conver- 
sation. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  317 

Stremof  was  a  man  fifty  years  old,  rather  gray,  but  well 
preserved,  very  ugly,  but  with  a  face  full  of  character  and 
intelligence.  Liza  Merkalova  was  his  wife's  niece,  and  he 
spent  with  her  all  his  leisure  time.  Though  an  enemy  of 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  in  politics,  he  endeavored,  now  that 
he  met  Anna  in  society,  to  act  the  man  of  the  world,  and  be 
exceedingly  amiable  to  his  enemy's  wife. 

"  The  very  best  way  is  to  do  nothing,"  he  continued  with 
his  wise  smile.  "  I  have  been  telling  you  this  long  time,  that, 
if  you  don't  want  to  be  bored,  you  must  not  think  that  it  is 
possible  to  be  bored ;  just  as  one  must  not  be  afraid  of  not 
sleeping  if  he  is  troubled  with  insomnia.  This  is  just  what 
Anna  Arkadyevna  told  you." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  if  I  had  said  so,"  said  Anna,  "  be- 
cause it  is  not  only  witty,  it  is  true." 

"  But  will  you  tell  me  why  it  is  not  hard  to  go  to  sleep, 
and  not  hard  to  be  free  from  ennui?  " 

"  To  sleep,  you  must  work;  and  to  be  happy,  you  must 
also  work." 

"  But  how  can  I  work  when  my  labor  is  useful  to  no  one? 
But  to  make  believe,  I  neither  can  nor  will." 

"  You  are  incorrigible,"  said  he,  not  looking  at  her,  but 
turning  to  Anna  again.  He  rarely  met  her.  and  could  not 
well  speak  to  her  except  in  the  wa}-  of  small  talk ;  but  he 
understood  how  to  say  light  things  gracefully,  and  he  asked 
her  when  she  was  going  back  to  Petersburg,  and  whether  she 
liked  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna.  And  he  asked  these 
questions  with  that  manner  that  showed  his  desire  to  be  her 
friend,  and  to  express  his  consideration  and  respect. 

"  No,  don't  go,  I  beg  of  you,"  said  Liza,  when  she  found 
that  Anna  was  not  intending  to  stay.  Stremof  added  his 
persuasions. 

"Too  great  a  contrast,"  said  he,  "between  our  society 
and  old  Vrede's  ;  and  then,  you  will  be  for  her  only  an  object 
for  slander,  while  here  you  will  only  awaken  very  different 
sentiments,  quite  the  opposite  of  slander  and  ill-feeling." 

Anna  remained  for  a  moment  in  uncertainty.  This  witt}r 
man's  flattering  words,  the  childlike  and  nctive  sympathy 
shown  her  by  Liza  Merkalova,  and  all  this  agreeable  social 
atmosphere,  so  opposed  to  what  she  expected  elsewhere, 
caused  her  a  moment  of  hesitation.  Could  she  not  postpone 
the  terrible  moment  of  explanation?  But  remembering  what 
she  had  suffered  alone  at  home  when  trying  to  decide,  re- 


318  ANNA 

membering  the  pain  that  she  had  felt  when  she  pulled  her 
hair  with  both  hands,  not  knowing  what  she  did,  so  great  was 
her  mental  anguish,  she  took  leave,  and  went. 


XIX. 

VRONSKY,  in  spite  of  his  worldly  life  and  his  apparent  fid- 
elity, was  a  man  who  detested  confusion.  Once,  when  still  a 
lad  in  the  School  of  Pages,  he  found  himself  short  of  money, 
and  met  with  a  refusal  when  he  tried  to  borrow.  He  vowed 
that  thenceforth  he  would  not  expose  himself  to  such  a 
humiliation  again,  and  he  kept  his  word.  Therefore,  in 
order  to  keep  his  affairs  in  order,  he  made,  more  or  less 
often,  according  to  circumstances,  but  at  least  five  times 
a  year,  an  examination  of  his  affairs.  He  called  this 
"straightening  his  affairs,"  or,  in  French,  faire  sa  lessive. 

The  morning  after  the  races,  Vronsky  woke  late,  and 
without  stopping  to  shave,  or  take  his  bath,  put  on  his  kitel 
[soldier's  linen  frock],  and,  placing  his  money  and  bills  and 
paper  on  the  table,  proceeded  to  the  work  of  settling  his 
accounts.  Petritsky,  knowing  that  his  comrade  was  likely 
to  be  irritable  when  engaged  in  such  occupation,  quietly  got 
up,  and  slipped  out  without  disturbing  him. 

Every  man  whose  existence  is  complicated  readily  believes 
that  the  complications  and  tribulations  of  his  life  are  a  per- 
sonal and  private  grievance  peculiar  to  himself,  and  never 
thinks  that  others  are  subjected  to  the  same  troubles  that  he 
himself  is.  Thus  it  seemed  to  Vronsky.  And  not  without 
inward  pride,  and  not  without  reason,  he  felt  that,  until  the 
present  time,  he  had  done  well  in  avoiding  the  embarrass- 
ments to  which  every  one  else  would  have  succumbed.  But 
he  felt  that  now  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  examine  into  his 
affairs,  so  as  not  to  be  embarrassed. 

First,  because  it  was  the  easiest  to  settle,  Vronsky  inves- 
tigated his  pecuniary  status.  He  wrote  in  his  fluent,  deli- 
cate hand,  a  schedule  of  all  his  debts,  and  found  that  the 
total  amounted  to  seventeen  thousand  rubles,  and  some  odd 
hundreds,  which  he  let  go  for  the  sake  of  clearness.  Count- 
ing up  his  available  money,  he  had  only  eighteen  hundred 
rubles,  with  no  hope  of  more  until  the  new  year.  Vronsky 
next  made  a  classification  of  his  debts,  and  put  them  into 
three  categories :  first,  the  urgent  debts,  or,  in  other  words, 


A  XX A   KAUtfXIXA.  319 

those  that  required  ready  money,  so  that,  in  case  of  requisi- 
tion, there  might  not  be  a  moment  of  delay.  These  amounted 
to  four  thousand  rubles, — fifteen  hundred  for  his  horse, 
and  twenty-five  hundred  as  a  guaranty  for  his  young  com- 
rade, Veuevsky,  who  had,  in  Vronsky's  company,  lost  this 
amount  in  playing  with  a  shuler  [one  who  cheats  at  cards]. 
Vronsky,  at  the  time,  did  not  want  to  hand  over  the  money, 
though  he  had  it  with  him ;  but  Venevsky  and  Yashvin  in- 
sisted on  paying  it,  rather  than  Vronsky,  who  had  not  been 
playing.  This  was  all  very  well ;  but  Vronsky  knew  that  in 
this  disgraceful  affair,  in  which  his  only  share  was  to  be 
guarant3'  for  Venevsky,  it  was  necessary  to  have  these 
twenty-five  hundred  rubles  ready  to  throw  at  the  rascal's 
head,  and  not  to  have  any  words  with  him.  Thus,  he  had  to 
reckon  the  category  of  urgent  debts  as  four  thousand  rubles. 

In  the  second  category,  were  eight  thousand  rubles  of 
debts,  and  these  were  less  imperative.  These  were  what  he 
owed  on  his  stable  account,  for  oats  and  hay,  to  his  English 
trainer,  and  other  incidentals.  At  a  pinch,  two  thoflsand 
would  suffice.  The  remaining  debts  were  to  his  tailor,  and 
other  furnishers  ;  and  they  could  wait.  In  conclusion,  he 
found  that  he  needed  for  immediate  use,  six  thousand  rubles, 
and  he  had  only  eighteen  hundred. 

For  a  man  with  an  income  of  a  hundred  thousand  rubles, 
—  as  people  supposed  Vronsky  to  have,  —  these  debts  would 
be  a  mere  bagatelle;  but  the  fact  was,  that  he  had  not  an 
income  of  a  hundred  thousand  rubles.  The  large  paternal 
estate,  realizing  two  hundred  thousand  rubles  a  year,  had 
been  divided  between  the  two  brothers.  But  when  the  elder 
brother,  laden  with  debts,  married  the  Princess  Varia  Tchir- 
kovai'a,  the  daughter  of  a  Dekabrist,1  who  brought  him  no 
fortune,  Aleksei  yielded  him  his  share  of  the  inheritance, 
reserving  only  an  income  of  twenty-five  thousand  rubles. 
He  told  his  brother  that  this  would  be  sufficient  for  him  until 
he  married,  which  he  thought  would  never  happen.  His 
brother,  the  colonel  of  one  of  the  most  expensive  regiments 
in  the  service,  could  not  refuse  this  gift.  His  mother,  who 
possessed  an  independent  fortune,  gave  her  younger  sou  a 
yearly  allowance  of  twenty  thousand  rubles ;  and  Aleksei 
spent  the  whole.  Afterwards  the  countess,  angry  with  him 
on  account  of  his  departure  from  Moscow,  and  his  disgrace- 

1  The  Pekabrists  wore  the  revolutionists  of  December,  1825,  the  time  of  the  acces- 
sion of  the  Emperor  Nicholas. 


320  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

ful  amour,  ceased  to  remit  to  him  his  allowance.  So  that 
Vronsky,  living  on  a  foi^-five-thousand-ruble  footing,  now 
found  himself  reduced  to  only  twenty-five  thousand.  He 
could  not  apply  to  his  mother  to  help  him  out  of  his  difficulty, 
for  the  letter  which  he  had  just  received  from  her  angered  him 
by  the  allusions  which  it  contained  :  she  was  ready,  it  said,  to 
help  him  along  in  society,  or  to  advance  him  in  his  career, 
but  not  in  this  present  life  which  was  scandalizing  all  the 
best  people.  His  mother's  attempt  to  bribe  him  wounded 
him  in  the  tenderest  spot  in  his  heart,  and  he  felt  more  cold- 
ly towards  her  than  ever.  He  could  not  retract  his  magnani- 
mous promise  given  to  his  brother ;  although  he  felt  now,  in 
view  of  his  rather  uncertain  relationship  with  Madame  Ka- 
re"nina,  that  his  magnanimous  promise  had  been  given  too 
hastily,  and  that,  even  though  he  were  not  married,  the 
hundred  thousand  rubles  might  stand  him  in  good  stead. 
He  was  prevented  from  retracting  his  promise  only  by  the 
memory  of  his  brother's  wife,  the  gentle,  excellent  Varia, 
who  ftlways  made  him  understand  that  she  should  not  forget- 
his  generosity,  and  never  cease  to  appreciate  it.  It  would 
be  as  impossible  as  to  strike  a  woman,  to  steal,  or  to  lie. 
There  was  only  one  possible  and  practicable  thing,  and  Vron- 
sky adopted  it  without  a  moment's  hesitation, — to  borrow 
ten  thousand  rubles  of  a  usurer,  which  would  offer  no  dif- 
ficulties, to  reduce  his  expenses,  and  to  sell  his  race-horses. 
Having  decided  upon  this,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Rolandaki, 
who  had  many  times  offered  to  buy  his  stud.  Then  he  sent 
for  his  English  trainer  and  the  usurer,  and  devoted  the 
money  which  he  had  on  hand  to  various  accounts.  Having 
finished  this  labor,  he  wrote  a  cold  and  sharp  note  to  his 
mother  ;  and  then  taking  from  his  portfolio  Anna's  last  three 
letters,  he  re-read  them,  burned  them,  and,  remembering  his 
last  conversation  with  her,  fell  into  deep  meditation. 


XX. 

VRONSKY'S  life  was  especially  happy,  because  he  had 
formed  a  special  code  of  rules,  which  never  failed  to  regulate 
what  he  ought  to  do,  and  what  he  ought  not  to  do. 

This  code  applied  to  a  very  small  circle  of  duties,  but  they 
were  strictly  determined  ;  and  as  \rronsky  never  had  occa- 
sion to  go  outside  of  this  circle,  he  had  never  been  obliged 


ANNA  KABtiNINA.  321 

to  hesitate  about  his  course  of  action.  This  code  prescribed 
unfailingly,  that  it  was  necessary  to  pay  gambling- debts,  but 
not  his  tailor's  bills ;  that  it  was  not  possible  to  tell  lies,  ex- 
cept to  women  ;  that  the  only  persons  legitimately  open  to 
deceit  were  husbands ;  that  insults  could  be  committed,  but 
never  pardoned. 

All  these  precepts  might  be  wrong  and  illogical,  but  they 
were  indispensable ;  and,  while  fulfilling  them,  Vronsky  felt 
that  he  was  calm,  and  had  the  right  to  hold  his  head  high. 
Since  his  intimacy  with  Anna,  however,  Vronsky  began  to 
perceive  that  his  code  was  not  complete  on  all  sides  ;  and,  as 
the  condition  of  his  life  had  changed,  he  no  longer  found 
any  reply  to  his  doubts,  and  even  began  to  hesitate  about  the 
future.  • 

Until  the  present  time  his  relations  with  Anna  and  her 
husband  had  been,  on  his  part,  simple  and  clear:  they  were 
in  harmony  with  the  code  which  guided  him.  She  was  an 
honorable  woman,  who  had  given  him  her  love,  and  he  loved 
her,  and  therefore  she  had  every  imaginable  right  to  his 
respect,  even  more  than  if  she  had  been  his  legal  wife.  He 
would  have  given  his  right  hand  sooner  than  permit  himself 
a  word  or  an  allusion  that  might  wound  her,  or  any  thing 
that  could  seem  derogatory  to  the  esteem  and  respect  upon 
which,  as  a  woman,  she  ought  to  count. 

His  relations  with  society  were  not  less  clearly  defined. 
All  might  know  or  suspect  his  relations  with  her,  but  no 
one  should  dare  to  speak  of  it.  At  the  first  hint,  he  was  pre- 
pared to  cause  the  speaker  to  hold  his  peace,  and  to  respect 
the  imaginary  honor  of  the  woman  whom  he  loved. 

Still  more  clear  were  his  relations  to  the  husband :  from 
the  first  moment  when  Anna  gave  him  her  love  he  prescribed 
to  her  his  own  law,  without  fear  of  contradiction.  The  hus- 
band was  merely  a  useless,  disagreeable  person.  Without 
doubt,  he  was  in  an  awkward  position  ;  but  what  could  be 
done  about  it  ?  The  only  right  that  was  left  him  was  to  seek 
satisfaction  with  arms  in  their  hands,  and  for  this  Vronsky 
was  wholly  willing. 

These  last  few  days,  however,  had  brought  new  compli- 
cations, and  Vronsky  was  not  prepared  to  settle  them.  Only 
the  evening  before,  Anna  had  confessed  that  she  was  in 
trouble  ;  and  he  knew  that  she  expected  him  to  make  some 
move,  but  the  ruling  principles  of  his  life  gave  him  no  clew 
as  to  what  he  ought  to  do.  At  the  first  moment,  when  she 


322  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

told  him  her  situation,  his  heart  bade  him  elope  with  her. 
He  said  this,  but  now  oil  reflection  he  saw  clearly  that  it 
would  be  better  not  to  do  so  ;  but  at  the  same  time  he  was 
alarmed  and  perplexed. 

"If  I  urge  her  to  leave  her  husband,  it  would  mean, — 
unite  her  life  with  mine.  Am  I  ready  for  that?  How  can  I 
elope  with  her  when  I  have  not  any  money?  Let  us  admit 
that  I  can  get  it ;  but  how  can  I  take  her  away  while  I 
am  connected  with  the  service?  If  I  should  decide  upon 
this,  I  should  have  to  get  money,  and  throw  up  my  com- 
mission." 

And  he  fell  into  thought.  The  question  of  resigning,  or 
not,  brought  him  face  to  face  with  another  interest  of  his 
life  known  only  to  himself,  though  it  formed  the  principal 
spur  to  his  action. 

Ambition  had  been  the  dream  of  his  childhood  and  youth, 
a  dream  which  he  did  not  confess  to  himself,  but  which  was 
nevertheless  so  strong  that  it  fought  with  his  love.  His  first 
advances  in  society,  and  in  his  military  career,  had  been 
brilliant,  but  two  years  before  he  had  made  a  serious  blun- 
der. Wishing  to  show  his  independence,  and  to  cause  a 
sensation,  he  refused  a  promotion  offered  him,  imagining 
that  his  refusal  would  put  a  still  higher  value  upon  him. 
But  it  seemed  that  he  was  too  confident,  and  since  then  he 
had  been  neglected.  He  found  himself  reduced  nolens  volens 
to  the  position  of  an  independent  man,  who  asked  for  noth- 
ing, and  could  not  take  it  amiss  if  he  were  left  in  peace  to 
amuse  himself  as  he  pleased.  In  reality,  as  the  year  went 
on,  and  since  his  return  from  Moscow,  his  independence 
weighed  upon  him.  He  felt  that  many  people  were  begin- 
ning to  think  that  he  was  incapable  of  doing  any  thing,  in- 
stead of  a  good,  honorable  fellow,  capable  of  doing  any  thing, 
but  not  caring  to. 

His  relations  with  Madame  Kar£nina,  by  attracting  atten- 
tion to  him,  for  a  time  calmed  the  gnawings  of  the  worm  of 
ambition,  but  lately  this  worm  had  begun  to  gnaw  with  re- 
newed energy.  Serpukhovskoi  —  the  friend  of  his  childhood, 
belonging  to  his  own  circle,  a  chum  of  his  in  the  School  of 
Pages,  who  had  graduated  with  him,  who  had  been  his  rival 
in  the  class-room  and  in  gymnasium,  in  his  pranks  and  in 
his  ambitions  —  had  just  returned  from  Central  Asia,  where 
he  had  advanced  two  steps  (two  tchins)  on  the  ladder  of 
promotion,  and  won  honors  rarely  given  to  such  a  young 


ANNA   KARtiNlNA.  323 

general.  He  was  now  in  Petersburg,  and  people  spoke  of 
him  as  a  new  rising  star  of  the  first  magnitude. 

Just  Vronsky's  age,  and  his  intimate  friend,  he  was  a 
general,  and  was  expecting  an  appointment  which  would  give 
him  great  influence  in  the  affairs  of  the  country ;  while  Vrou- 
sky,  though  he  was  independent  and  brilliant,  and  loved  by 
a  lovel}'  woman,  was  only  a  cavalry  captain,  whom  they 
allowed  to  remain  as  he  was,  and  do  as  he  pleased. 

"Of  course,"  he  said  to  himself,  "I  am  not  envious  of 
Serpukhovskoi ;  but  his  promotion  proves  that  a  man  like  me 
only  needs  to  bide  his  time  in  order  to  make  a  rapid  rise  in 
his  profession.  It  is  scarcely  three  years  ago  that  he  was 
in  the  same  position  as  I  am  now.  If  I  left  the  service,  I 
should  burn  my  ships.  If  I  stay  in  the  service,  I  lose  noth- 
ing :  did  she  not  herself  tell  me  that  she  did  not  want  to 
change  her  position  ?  And  can  I,  sure  of  her  love,  be  envi- 
ous of  Serpukhovskoi?" 

And,  slowly  twisting  his  mustache,  he  arose  from  the 
table,  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room.  His  eyes 
shone  with  extraordinary  brilliancy ;  and  he  was  conscious  of 
that  calm,  even,  and  joyous  state  of  mind  that  he  always  felt 
after  regulating  his  accounts.  All  was  now  clear  and  orderly 
as  ever.  He  shaved,  took  a  cold-water  bath,  dressed,  and 
prepared  to  go  out. 

XXI. 

"I  WAS  coming  for  you,"  said  Petritsky,  entering  the 
room.  "  Your  accounts  took  a  long  time  to-day,  didn't  they? 
Are  you  through?" 

"All  through,"  said  Vronsky,  smiling  only  with  his  eyes, 
and  continuing  to  twist  the  ends  of  his  mustache  deliberately, 
as  though,  after  this  work  of  regulation  were  accomplished, 
any  rash  and  quick  motion  might  destroy  it. 

"  You  always  come  out  of  this  operation  as  from  a  bath," 
said  Petritsky.  "  I  come  from  Gritska's.  They  are  waiting 
for  you." 

Their  colonel's  name  was  Demin,  but  they  all  called  him 
Gritska,  the  diminutive  of  Grigorie. 

Vronsky  looked  at  his  comrade  without  replying:  his 
thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

"Z>a/  then  that  music  is  at  his  house?"  he  remarked,  hear- 
ing the  well-known  sounds  of  waltzes  and  polkas,  played  by 


324  ANNA  KAItfiNINA. 

a  military  band  at  some  distance.  "  What  is  the  celebra- 
tion?" 

"  Serpukhovskoi  has  come." 

"Ah  !  "  said  Vronsky,  "  I  did  not  know  it."  The  smile  in 
his  eyes  was  brighter  than  ever.  He  had  himself  elected  to 
sacrifice  his  ambition  to  his  love,  and  again  he  argued  that 
he  was  happy  in  his  choice.  He  therefore  could  feel  neither 
envy  at  Serpukhovskoi,  nor  vexation  because  he,  returning  to 
the  regiment,  had  not  come  first  to  see  him. 

"  Ah  !  I  am  very  glad." 

Colonel  Demin  lived  in  a  vast  seignorial  mansion.  When 
Vronsky  arrived,  he  found  all  the  company  assembled  on  the 
lower  front  balcony.  What  first  struck  his  eyes  as  he 
reached  the  door  were  the  singers  of  the  regiment,  in  summer 
kitels,  grouped  around  a  keg  of  vodka,  and  the  healthy, 
jovial  face  of  the  colonel  surrounded  by  his  officers.  He 
was  standing  on  the  front  step  of  the  balcony,  screaming 
louder  than  the  music,  which  was  playing  one  of  Offenbach's 
quadrilles.  He  was  giving  some  orders  and  gesticulating  to 
a  group  of  soldiers  on  one  side.  A  group  of  soldiers,  the 
vdkhmistr  [sergeant],  and  a  few  non-commissioned  officers, 
reached  the  balcony  at  the  same  instant  with  Vronsky.  The 
colonel,  who  had  been  to  the  table,  returned  with  a  glass  of 
champagne  to  the  front  steps,  and  proposed  the  toast,  — 

"To  our  old  comrade,  the  brave  general  Prince  Serpu- 
khovskoi. Hurrah!" 

Behind  the  colonel  came  Serpukhovskoi,  smiling,  with  a 
glass  in  his  hand. 

"You  are  alwaj's  young,  Bondarenko,"  said  he  to  the 
vdkhmistr.  a  ruddy-cheeked  soldier  lad,  who  stood  directly  in 
front  of  him,  in  the  front  row. 

Vrousky  had  not  seen  Serpukhovskoi  for  three  j-ears.  He 
had  grown  older,  and  wore  whiskers,  but  his  regular  and 
handsome  features  were  not  more  striking  than  the  nobility 
and  gentleness  of  his  whole  bearing.  The  only  change  that 
Vronsky  noted  in  him  was  the  slight  but  constant  radiance 
which  can  generally  be  seen  in  the  faces  of  people  who  have 
succeeded,  and  made  everybody  else  believe  in  their  success. 
Vronsky  had  seen  it  in  other  people,  and  now  he  detected  it 
in  Serpukhovskoi. 

As  he  descended  the  steps  he  caught  sight  of  Vronsky,  and 
a  smile  of  joy  irradiated  his  face.  He  nodded  to  him,  lifting 
his  wine-cup  as  a  greeting,  and  at  the  same  time  to  signify 


ANNA   KARtiNlNA.  325 

that  first  he  must  drink  with  the  vdkhmistr,  who,  standing 
perfectly  straight,  had  puckered  his  lips  for  the  kiss. 

t;  Nu !  here  he  is  !  "  cried  the  colonel ;  "  but  Yashvin  was 
telling  me  that  you  were  in  one  of  your  bad  humors." 

Serpukhovskoi,  having  kissed  the  vdkhmistr' 's  moist,  fresh 
lips,  wiped  his  mouth  with  his  handkerchief,  and  came  to 
Vronsky.  "Nu!  how  glad  I  am  !  "  he  said,  shaking  hands, 
and  drawing  him  to  one  side. 

"Bring  him  along,"  cried  the  colonel  to  Yashvin,  point- 
ing to  Vronsky,  and  descending  to  join  the  soldiers. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  to  the  races  yesterday?  I  expect- 
ed to  see  you,"  said  Vrousky  to  Serpukhovskoi,  studying  his 
face. 

"  I  did  come,  but  too  late.  Excuse  me,"  he  said;  and, 
turning  to  his  adjutant,  "  Please  have  this  distributed  with 
my  thanks :  only  have  it  get  to  the  men." 

And  he  hurriedly  took  out  of  his  pocket-book  three  hun- 
dred-ruble notes,  and  handed  them  to  him. 

"Vrousky,  will  you  have  something  to  eat  or  drink?" 
asked  Yashvin.  "  Hey  !  bring  something  to  the  count  here. 
There,  now,  drink  this." 

The  feasting  at  the  colonel's  lasted  a  long  time.  They 
drank  a  great  deal.  They  toasted  Serpukhovskoi,  and  car- 
ried him  on  their  shoulders.  Then  the  colonel  and  Petritsky 
danced  a  Russian  dance,  while  the  regimental  singers  made 
the  music ;  and  when  he  was  tired,  he  sat  down  on  a  bench 
near  the  door,  and  tried  to  prove  to  Yashvin,  Russia's  superi- 
ority over  Prussia,  especially  in  cavalry-charges ;  and  the 
ga}'ety  calmed  down  for  a  moment.  Serpukhovskoi  went 
into  the  house  to  wash  his  hands,  and  found  Vronsky  in  the 
lavatory.  Vronsky  was  pouring  on  the  water.  He  had  taken 
off  his  kitel,  and  was  sousing  his  head  and  his  handsome  neck 
under  the  faucet,  and  rubbing  them  with  his  hands.  When 
he  had  finished  his  ablutions,  he  sat  down  by  Serpukhovskoi 
on  a  divcmtchik  [a  small  sofa],  and  a  conversation  very  in- 
teresting to  both  parties  arose  between  them. 

"I  have  learned  all  about  you  through  my  wife,"  said 
Serpukhovskoi.  "  I  am  glad  that  you  see  her  so  often." 

"  She  is  a  friend  of  Varia's,  and  they  are  the  only  women 
in  Petersburg  that  I  care  to  see,"  said  Vronsky  with  a  smile. 
He  smiled  because  he  foresaw  on  what  subject  the  conversa- 
tion would  turn,  and  it  was  not  displeasing  to  him. 

"  The  only  ones?  "  repeated  Serpukhovskoi,  also  smiling. 


326  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

"  Yes  ;  and  I,  too,  know  all  about  YOU,  Tmfc  not  through 
your  wife  only,"  said  Vronsky,  cutting  short,  by  the  sud- 
denly stern  expression  of  his  face,  the  allusion  ;  "  and  I  am 
very  glad  at  your  success,  but  not  the  least  surprised.  T 
expected  even  more." 

Serpukhovskoi  smiled   again.     This  flattering  opini 
him  pleased  him,  and  he  saw  no  reason  to  hide  it. 

"  I  on  the  contrary,  I  confess  frankly,  expected  less.  But 
I  am  glad,  very  glad.  I  am  ambitious  :  it  is  my  weakness, 
and  I  confess  it." 

"  Perhaps  you  wouldn't  confess  it  if  you  weren't  success- 
ful," suggested  Vronsky. 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  Serpukhovskoi'.  "  I  will  not  say  that 
life  would  not  be  worth  living  without  it,  but  it  would  be 
tiresome.  Of  course  I  may  deceive  myself,  but  it  seems  to 
ine  that  I  possess  the  qualifications  necessary  to  the  sphere  of 
activity  which  I  have  chosen,  and  that  in  my  hands  power 
of  any  sort  soever  would  be  better  placed  than  in  the  hands  of 
many  whom  I  know,"  said  Serpukhovskoi,  with  the  radiant 
expression  of  success  ;  "  and  therefore,  the  nearer  I  am  to 
power,  the  moi'e  contented  I  feel." 

"Perhaps  this  is  true  for  you,  but  not  for  everybody.  I 
used  to  think  so,  and  yet  I  live,  and  no  longer  find  that  am- 
bition is  the  only  aim  of  existence." 

"  Vot  ono!  vot  ono!  "  cried  Serpukhovskoi,  laughing.  '•  I 
began  by  saying  that  I  heard  about  you,  about  your  refusal 
—  of  course  I  approved  of  you.  There  is  a  way  for  every 
thing  ;  and  I  think  that  }rour  action  itself  was  well,  but  you 
did  not  do  it  in  the  right  way." 

"  What  is  done,  is  done  ;  and  you  know  I  never  go  back  on 
what  I  have  done.  Besides,  I  am  very  well  fixed." 

"  Very  well —  for  a  time.  But  you  will  not  he  contented 
so  forever.  I  do  not  refer  to  your  brother.  He  —  a  very 
good  fellow  —  just  like  this  host  of  ours.  Hark  !  hear  that?  " 
he  added,  hearing  the  shouts  and  hurrahs.  "  He  may  be 
happy,  but  this  will  not  satisfy  you." 

"  I  don't  say  that  I  am  satisfied." 

"Da!  and  not  this  alone.  Such  men  as  you  are  neces- 
sary !  " 

"To  whom?" 

"To  whom?  to  society;  to  Russia.  Russia  needs  men; 
she  needs  a  party  ;  otherwise  all  is  going,  and  will  go,  to  the 
dogs." 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  327 

"  "\Vhat  do  you  mean?  —  Bertenef  s  party  against  the  Rus- 
sian communists?  " 

"  No,"  said  Serpukhovskoi,  with  a  grimace  of  vexation 
that  he  should  be  accused  of  any  such  nonsense.  "Tout  gaest 
une  blague!  [All  that  is  fudge].  This  always  has  been,  and 
always  will  be.  There  aren't  an}*  communists.  But  in- 
triguing people  must  needs  invent  some  malignant  dangerous 
party.  It's  an  old  joke.  No,  a  powerful  party  is  needed,  of 
independent  men,  like  you  and  me." 

"  But  why  "  —  Vronsky  named  several  influential  men  — 
"  but  wh\-  aren't  they  among  the  independents?  " 

"  Simply  because  they  had  not,  through  birth,  an  independ- 
ent position,  or  a  name,  and  have  not  lived  near  the  sun,  as 
we  have.  They  can  be  bought  by  money  or  honors.  And  to 
maintain  themselves,  the}-  must  invent  a  direction  ;  and  they 
must  follow  this  direction,  to  which  they  do  not  attach  any 
meaning,  or  which  may  even  be  bad.  And  all  this  direction 
is  only  a  means  for  providing  them  a  home  at  the  expense  of 
the  crown  and  certain  salaries.  Cela  n'est  pas  plus  Jin  que 
$a  [That  is  all  that  it  amounts  to]  when  you  look  at  their 
cards.  Maybe  I  am  worse  or  more  foolish  than  they,  though 
I  don't  see  why  I  ought  to  be  worse  than  they.  But  I  have, 
and  you  have,  the  one  inestimable  advantage,  that  it  is  harder 
to  buy  us.  And  men  of  this  stamp  are  more  than  ever  neces- 
sary." 

Vronsky  listened  attentively,  not  only  because  of  the 
meaning  of  his  words,  but  because  of  their  connection  with 
Serpukhovskoi's  own  case,  who  was  about  to  engage  in  the 
struggle,  and  was  entering  into  that  official  world,  with  its 
sympathies  and  antipathies,  while  he  was  occupied  only  with 
the  interests  of  his  squadron.  Vronsky  perceived  how  strong 
Serpukhovskoi  might  be,  with  his  unfailing  aptitude  for  in- 
vention, his  quickness  of  comprehension,  his  intellect,  and 
fluent  speech,  so  rarely  met  with  in  the  circle  in  which  he 
lived.  And,  shameful  as  it  was,  he  felt  a  twinge  of  envy. 

"  All  that  I  need  for  this,  is  the  one  essential  thing,"  said 
he,  —  "  the  desire  for  power.  I  had  it,  but  it  is  gone." 

"Excuse  me:  I  don't  believe  you,"  said  Serpukovsko'i, 
smiling. 

"No:  it  is  true,  true  —  now  —  to  speak  sincerely,"  per- 
sisted Vronsky. 

' k  Yes  ;  true  now,  —  that  is  another  affair  ;  this  now  will 
not  last  forever." 


328  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

"Perhaps."    , 

"You  say  perhaps;  and  I  tell  you  certainly  not,"  contin- 
ued Serpukhovskoi,  as  though  he  divined  his  thought 
"  And  that  is  why  I  wanted  to  see  you.  You  declined,  as 
you  felt  was  necessary.  I  understand  that ;  but  it  is  not 
necessary  for  you  to  stick  to  it  [per sever irovat~\.  All  I  ask 
of  }'ou  is  carte  blanche  for  the  future.  I  am  not  your  patron  ; 
and  yet  why  should  I  not  take  you  under  my  protection? 
Have  you  not  often  done  as  much  for  me?  I  hope  that 
our  friendship  stands  above  that.  Da! "  said  he,  smiling  at 
him  tenderly,  like  a  woman.  "  Give  me  carte  blanche.  Come 
out  of  your  regiment,  and  I  will  push  you  so  that  it  won't  be 
known." 

"  But  understand  that  I  want  nothing  except  that  all 
should  be  as  it  has  been." 

Serpukhovskoi  arose,  and  stood  facing  him.  "  You  say 
that  all  must  be  as  it  has  been.  I  understand  you  ;  but 
listen  to  me.  We  are  of  the  same  age  :  maybe  you  have 
known  more  women  than  I."  His  smile  and  his  gesture 
told  Vronsk}*  that  he  would  touch  gently  and  delicately  on 
the  tender  spot.  "  But  I  am  married  ;  and,  in  faith,  as  some 
one  or  other  wrote,  he  who  knows  only  his  wife,  and  loves 
her,  understands  all  women  better  than  if  he  had  known 
a  thousand." 

"Coming  directly,"  cried  Vronsky  to  an  officer  who 
looked  in  at  the  room,  and  said  he  was  sent  by  the  colonel. 

Vronsky  now  felt  curious  to  hear  and  to  know  what  Ser- 
pukhovskoi would  say  to  him. 

"And  this  is  my  idea:  Women  are  the  principal  stum- 
bling-block in  the  way  of  a  man's  activity.  It  is  hard  to  love 
a  woman,  and  to  do  any  thing  else.  There  is  only  one  way 
to  love  with  comfort,  and  without  hinderance  ;  and  that  is,  to 
marry.  And  how  to  explain  to  you  what  I  mean,"  con- 
tinued Serpukhovskoi,  who  was  fond  of  metaphors,  —  "  da! 
suppose  you  had  to  carry  a  fardeau  [burden]  :  your  hands 
are  of  no  good  until  they  fasten  the  fardeau  on  your  back. 
And  so  it  is  with  marriage.  And  I  found  this  out  when 
I  got  married.  My  hands  suddenly  became  free.  But  to 
carry  this  fardeau  without  marriage,  your  hands  will  be  so 
full  that  you  can't  do  any  thing.  Look  at  Mazankof, 
Krupof.  They  ruined  their  careers  through  women." 

"  But  what  women  !  "  said  Vronsky,  remembering  the 
French  woman  and  the  actress  on  whom  these  two  men  had 
thrown  themselves  away. 


ANNA   KAEtiNINA.  329 

"  The  higher  the  woman  is  in  the  social  scale,  the  greater 
the  difficulty.  It  is  just  the  same  as  —  not  to  carry  your 
fardeau  in  your  hands,  but  to  tear  it  from  some  other  man." 

"You  have  never  loved,"  murmured  Vronsky,  looking 
straight  ahead,  and  thinking  of  Anna. 

"  Perhaps  ;  but  you  think  of  what  I  have  told  you.  And 
one  thing  more :  women  are  all  more  material  than  men. 
We  make  something  immense  out  of  love,  but  they  are  all 
terre-ci-terre  "  [of  the  earth,  earthy]. 

"Right  away,  right  away!  "  he  cried  to  the  lackey,  who 
was  coming  into  the  room.  But  the  lackey  was  not  a  mes- 
senger for  him,  as  he  supposed.  The  lackey  brought  Vronsky 
a  note. 

"  A  man  brought  this  from  the  Princess  Tverskai'a." 

Vronsky  hastily  read  the  note,  and  grew  red  in  the  face. 

"  I  have  a  headache.  I  am  going  home,"  said  he  to 
Serpukhovskoi. 

"  Nti,  proshcha'i!  will  you  give  me  carte  blanche?  " 

' '  We  will  talk  about  it  by  and  by.  I  will  meet  you  in 
Petersburg." 

XXII. 

IT  was  already  six  o'clock ;  and  in  order  not  to  miss  his 
appointment,  or  to  go  with  his  own  horses,  which  everybody 
knew,  Vronsky  engaged  Yashvin's  hired  carriage,  and  told 
the  izvoshchik  to  drive  with  all  speed.  It  was  a  spacious  old 
carriage,  with  room  for  four.  He  sat  in  one  corner,  stretched 
his  legs  out  on  the  empty  seat,  and  began  to  think. 

The  confused  consciousness  of  the  order  in  which  he  had 
regulated  his  affairs  ;  the  confused  recollection  of  the  friend- 
ship and  flattery  of  Serpukhofskoi,  who  assured  him  that  he 
was  an  indispensable  man  ;  and  most  of  all,  the  expectation 
of  the  coming  interview,  —  conspired  to  give  him  a  keen  sense 
of  the  joy  of  living.  This  impression  was  so  powerful  that 
he  could  not  restrain  his  joy.  He  stretched  his  legs,  threw 
one  knee  over  the  other,  felt  for  the  contusion  that  his  fall 
had  given  him  the  evening  before,  and  drew  several  long 
breaths  with  full  lungs. 

"Good,  very  good,"  said  he  to  himself.  Oftentimes  be- 
fore he  had  felt  a  pleasure  in  the  possession  of  his  body,  but 
never  had  he  so  loved  it,  or  loved  himself,  as  now.  It  was 
even  pleasurable  to  feel  the  slight  soreness  in  his  leg,  pleas- 


330  ANNA   KARtiNlNA. 

urable  was  the  mouse-like  sensation  of  motion  on  his  breast 
when  he  breathed. 

This  same  bright,  cool,  August  day,  which  so  painfully  im- 
pressed Anna,  stimulated,  vitalized  him,  and  refreshed  his 
face  and  neck,  which  still  burned  from  the  re-action  after  his 
bath.  The  odor  of  brilliantine  from  his  whiskers  seemed 
pleasant  to  him  in  this  fresh  atmosphere.  Every  thing  that  he 
saw  from  the  carriage- window  seemed  to  him  in  this  cool,  pure 
air,  in  this  pale  light  of  the  dying  day,  fresh,  joyous,  and 
healthful,  like  himself.  And  the  house-tops  shining  in  the 
rays'of  the  setting  sun,  the  outlines  of  the  fences  and  the 
edifices  along  the  ways,  and  the  shapes  of  occasional  pedes- 
trians and  carriages  hunying  hither  and  thither,  and  the 
motionless  leaves,  and  the  lawns,  and  the  fields  with  their 
straight-cut  rows  of  potato-hills,  and  the  oblique  shadows 
cast  by  the  houses  and  the  trees,  and  even  by  the  potato-hills, 
—  all  was  as  beautiful  as  an  exquisite  landscape  just  from 
the  master's  hand,  and  freshly  varnished. 

"Make  haste,  make  haste!"  he  shouted,  pushing  up 
through  the  window  a  three-ruble  note  to  the  driver,  who 
turned  round,  and  looked  down  towards  him. 

The  izvoshchik's  hand  arranged  something  about  the  lan- 
tern, then  he  applied  the  knout  to  his  horses,  and  the  carriage 
whirled  rapidty  over  the  even  pavement. 

"I  need  nothing,  nothing,  but  this  pleasure,"  he  thought, 
as  his  63-68  rested  on  the  knob  of  the  bell,  fastened  between 
the  windows,  and  he  imagined  Anna  as  she  seemed  when  last 
he  saw  her.  ''The  farther  I  go,  the  more  I  love  her. —  Ah  ! 
here  is  the  garden  of  the  Vrede  datcha.  Where  shall  I  find 
her?  How?  Why  did  she  make  this  appointment?  and  why 
did  she  write  on  Betsy's  note?"  This  struck  him  for  the 
first  time,  but  he  had  no  time  to  think  about  it.  He  stopped 
the  driver  before  they  reached  the  drive- way,  and,  getting 
out  of  the  carriage,  he  went  up  the  walk  which  led  to  the 
house.  There  was  no  one  on  the  avenue ;  but  going  a  little 
farther,  and  looking  straight  ahead,  he  saw  her.  Her  face  was 
covered  with  a  thick  veil ;  but  with  a  joyful  glance,  he  recog- 
nized her  immediately,  by  her  graceful  motion  as  she  walked, 
by  the  slope  of  her  shoulders,  and  the  pose  of  her  head,  and 
he  felt  as  though  an  electric  shock  had  passed  through  him. 
With  new  strength  he  felt  the  joy  of  life  and  of  action,  even 
from  the  movements  of  his  limbs  to  the  easy  motion  of  res- 
piration. When  they  neared  each  other,  she  eagerly  seized 
his  hand. 


ANNA  RA&£NINA.  881 

"  You  are  not  angry  because  I  asked  YOU  to  come?  I  ab- 
solutely needed  to  see  you,'*'  she  said  ;  and  the  serious  and 
stern  closing  of  the  lips,  which  he  saw  under  the  veil,  quickly 
put  an  end  to  his  jubilant  spirits. 

"  I  angry?  but  why  did  you  come?  when?" 

"  No  matter  about  that,"  said  she,  taking  Vronsky's  arm. 
"  Come  :  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you." 

He  perceived  that  something  had  happened,  and  that  their 
interview  would  not  be  joyful.  While  with  her,  he  could  not 
control  his  will.  Though  he  did  not  know  what  her  agitation 
portended,  yet  he  felt  that  it  had  taken  possession  of  him 
also. 

tl  What  is  it?  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  asked,  pressing 
her  arm,  and  trying  to  read  her  thoughts  by  her  face. 

She  went  a  few  steps  in  silence,  so  as  to  get  her  breath  ; 
then  she  suddenly  halted. 

"  I  did  not  tell  you  last  evening,"  she  began,  breathing 
fast  and  painfully,  "that,  coming  home  with  Alekse'i  Alek- 
saudrovitch,  I  confessed  to  him  eveiy  thing  —  I  said  that  I 
could  not  be  his  wife  —  and  I  told  him  all." 

He  listened,  leaning  towards  her,  as  though  ne  wished  to 
lighten  for  her  the  difficulty  of  this  confidence  ;  but  as  soon 
as  she  finished  speaking,  he  suddenly  drew  himself  up,  and 
his  face  assumed  a  haughty  and  stern  expression. 

"  Da!  da!  that  was  better,  a  thousand  times  better,"  he 
said.  But  she  did  not  heed  his  words,  she  read  his  thoughts 
on  his  expressive  face.  She  could  not  know  that  the  expres- 
sion of  his  face  arose  from  the  first  thought  that  came  into 
his  mind,  —  the  thought  that  the  duel  must  now  be  fought. 
Never  had  the  thought  of  a  duel  entered  her  head,  and  the 
interpretation  which  she  gave  to  the  sudden  change  in  his 
appearance  was  quite  different. 

Since  the  arrival  of  her  husband's  letter,  she  felt  in  the 
bottom  of  her  heart  that  all  would  remain  as  before ;  that 
she  should  not  have  the  strength  to  sacrifice  her  position  in 
the  world,  to  abandon  her  son,  and  join  her  lover.  The 
morning  spent  with  the  Princess  Tverskaia  confirmed  her  in 
this.  But  the  interview  with  Vronsky  seemed  to  be  of  vital 
importance.  She  hoped  that  it  might  change  their  relations 
and  save  her.  If,  when  they  first  met,  he  had  said  decidedly, 
passionately,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  "Leave  all,  and 
come  with  me,"  she  would  have  even  abandoned  her  son, 
and  gone  with  him.  But  their  meeting  had  been  the  opposite 


332  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

of  what  she  expected :  he  seemed,  if  any  thing,  vexed  and 
angry. 

"  It  was  not  hard  for  me  at  all.  It  came  of  its  own  ac- 
cord," she  said,  with  a  touch  of  irritation;  "and  here" — 
she  drew  her  husband's  letter  from  her  glove. 

"  I  understand,  I  understand,"  interrupted  Vronsky,  tak- 
ing the  letter,  but  not  reading  it,  and  trying  to  calm  Anna. 
"The  one  thing  I  wanted,  the  one  thing  I  prayed  for  —  to 
put  an  end  to  this  situation,  so  that  I  could  devote  my  whole 
life  to  your  happiness." 

' '  Why  do  you  say  that  to  me  ? ' '  she  asked.  ' '  Can  I  doubt 
it?  If  I  doubted"— 

"Who  are  those?"  asked  Vronsky  abruptly,  seeing  two 
ladies  coming  in  their  direction.  "  Perhaps  they  know  us." 
And  he  hastily  drew  Anna  with  him  down  a  side  alley. 

"Ach!  it  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  she  said.  Her  lips 
trembled,  and  it  seemed  to  Vronsky  that  her  eyes  looked  at 
him  from  under  her  veil  with  strange  hatred. 

"As  I  said,  in  all  this  affair,  I  cannot  doubt  you.  But 
here  is  what  he  wrote  me.  Read  it."  And  again  she  halted. 
Again,  as  when  he  first  learned  of  Anna's  rupture  with  her 
husband,  Vronsky,  beginning  to  read  this  letter,  involunta- 
rily abandoned  himself  to  the  impression  awakened  in  him 
by  the  thought  of  his  relations  to  the  deceived  husband. 
Now  that  he  had  the  letter  in  his  hand,  he  imagined  the 
challenge  which  he  would  receive  the  next  da}\  and  the  duel 
itself,  at  the  moment  when,  with  the  same  cool  and  haughty 
expression  which  now  set  his  face,  he  would  stand  in  front  of 
his  adversary,  and,  having  discharged  his  weapon  in  the  air, 
would  wait  the  outraged  husband's  shot.  And  Serpukhov- 
sko'i's  words  flashed  through  his  mind,  "  Better  not  tie  your- 
self down  ;  "  and  he  felt  the  impossibility  of  explaining  them 
to  her. 

After  he  read  the  note,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  her,  and  there 
was  indecision  in  his  look.  She  instantly  perceived  that  he 
had  thought  this  matter  over  before.  She  knew  that  what- 
ever he  said  to  her,  he  would  not  say  all  that  he  thought. 
And  her  last  hope  vanished.  This  was  not  what  she  had 
desired. 

"You  see  what  sort  of  a  man  he  is,"  said  she  with  fal- 
tering voice.  "  He  " — 

"  Excuse  me,  but  I  am  glad  of  this,"  said  Vronsky.  inter- 
rupting. "For  Heaven's  sake,  let  me  speak,"  he  quickly 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  333 

added,  begging  her  with  his  look  to  give  him  time  to  finish 
what  he  began  to  say.  "  I  am  glad,  because  this  cannot, 
and  never  could,  go  on  as  he  imagines." 

"Why  can't  it?"  demanded  Anna,  holding  back  her 
tears,  and  not  attaching  any  importance  to  what  he  said, 
for  she  felt  that  her  fate  was  already  settled. 

It  was  in  Vronsky's  mind  to  say,  that  after  the  duel,  which 
he  felt  was  inevitable,  this  situation  must  be  changed ;  but 
he  said  something  quite  different. 

"  It  cannot  go  on  so.  I  hope  that  now  you  will  leave  him. 
I  hope" — he  stumbled  and  grew  red — "  that  you  will  allow 
me  to  take  charge  of  our  lives,  and  regulate  them.  To- 
morrow ' '  — 

She  did  not  allow  him  to  finish. 

"And  my  sou!"  she  cried.  "Do  you  see  what  he 
writes  ?  I  must  leave  him  ;  but  I  cannot,  and  I  will  not, 
do  that." 

"  But  which  is  better,  — to  leave  your  son,  or  to  continue 
this  humiliating  situation?" 

"  For  whom  is  it  a  humiliating  situation?" 

"  For  all  of  us,  and  especially  for  you." 

"You  say  humiliating!  Don't  say  that.  For  me  that 
word  has  no  meaning,"  said  she  with  trembling  voice.  She 
could  not  bear  now  to  have  him  tell  her  a  falsehood.  Her 
love  for  him  was  trembling  in  the  balance,  and  she  wished  to 
love  him.  "  You  must  know  that  for  me,  on  that  day  when  I 
first  loved  you,  ever}'  thing  was  transformed.  For  me  there 
was  one  thing,  and  only  one  thing, — your  love.  If  it  is 
mine,  then  I  feel  myself  so  high,  so  firm,  that  nothing  can 
be  humiliating  to  me.  I  am  proud  of  my  position,  because 
—  proud  that  —  proud" —  She  did  not  say  why  she  was 
proud.  Tears  of  shame  and  despair  choked  her  utterance. 
She  stopped,  and  began  to  sob. 

He  also  felt  that  something  rose  in  his  throat.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  ready  to  cry.  He  could  not  have 
said  what  affected  him  so.  He  was  sorry  for  her,  and  he 
felt  that  he  could  not  help  her ;  and,  more  than  all,  he  knew 
that  he  was  the  cause  of  her  unhappiness,  that  he  had  done 
something  abominable. 

"Then  a  divorce  is  impossible?"  he  asked  gently.  She 
shook  her  head  without  replying.  "  Then,  could  you  not 
take  your  sou,  and  leave  him?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  all  this  depends  on  him  now.     Now  I  must  go 


334  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

to  him,"  she  said  dryly.  Her  presentiment  that  all  would 
be  as  before  was  verified. 

"•  I  shall  be  in  Petersburg  Tuesday,  and  every  thing  will 
be  decided." 

"  Yes,"  she  repeated.  "  But  we  shall  not  speak  any  more 
about  that." 

Anna's  carriage,  which  she  sent  away  with  the  order  to 
come  back  for  her  at  the  railing  of  the  Vrede  Garden,  was 
approaching.  Anna  took  leave  of  Vrousky,  and  went  home. 


XXIII. 

THE  Commission  of  the  2d  of  June,  as  a  general  thing, 
held  its  sittings  on  Monday.  Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch  entered 
the  committee-room,  bowed  to  the  members  and  the  president 
as  usual,  and  took  his  place,  laying  his  hand  on  the  papers 
made  ready  for  him.  Among  the  number  were  the  data 
which  he  needed,  and  the  notes  on  the  proposition  that  he 
intended  to  submit  to  the  Commission.  These  notes,  however, 
were  not  necessary.  His  grasp  of  the  subject  was  complete, 
and  he  did  not  need  to  refresh  his  memory  as  to  what  he  was 
going  to  say.  He  knew  that  when  the  time  came,  and  he 
was  face  to  face  with  his  adversary,  vainly  endeavoring  to 
put  on  an  expression  of  indifference,  his  speech  would  come  of 
itself  in  better  shape  than  he  could  now  determine.  He  felt 
that  the  meaning  of  his  speech  was  so  great  that  every  word 
would  have  its  importance.  Meantime,  as  he  listened  to  the 
reading  of  the  report,  he  put  on  a  most  innocent  and  inoffen- 
sive expression.  No  one  seeing  his  white  hands,  with  their 
swollen  veins,  his  delicate,  long  fingers  doubling  up  the  two 
ends  of  the  sheet  of  white  paper  lying  before  him,  and  Ins 
expression  of  weariness,  as  he  sat  with  head  on  one  side, 
would  have  believed  it  possible,  that,  in  a  few  moments,  from 
his  lips  would  proceed  a  speech  which  would  raise  a  real 
tempest,  cause  the  members  of  the  Commission  to  outdo 
each  other  in  screaming,  and  oblige  the  president  to  call  them 
to  order.  AVhen  the  report  was  finished,  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch,  in  his  weak,  shrill  voice,  said  that  he  had  a  few 
observations  to  .make  in  regard  to  the  situation  of  the  foreign 
tribes.  Attention  was  concentrated  upon  him.  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch  cleared  his  throat,  and  not  looking  at  his  adver- 
sary, but,  as  he  always  did  at  the  beginning  of  his  speeches, 


A  NX  A  KARfiyiNA.  835 

addressing  the  person  who  sat  nearest  in  front  of  him,  who 
happened  to  be  a  little,  insignificant  old  man,  without  the 
slightest  importance  in  the  Commission,  began  to  deliver  his 
views.  When  he  reached  the  matter  of  the  fundamental  and 
organic  law,  his  adversary  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  began  to 
reply.  Stremof,  who  was  also  a  member  of  the  Commission, 
and  also  touched  to  the  quick,  arose  to  defend  himself  ;  and 
the  session  proved  to  be  excessively  stormy.  But  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  triumphed,  and  his  proposition  was  ac- 
cepted. The  three  new  commissions  were  appointed,  and 
the  next  day  in  certain  Petersburg  circles  this  session  formed 
the  staple  topic  of  conversation.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 's 
success  far  outstripped  his  anticipations. 

The  next  morning,  which  was  Tuesday,  Karenin,  on 
awaking,  recalled  with  pleasure  his  success  of  the  day 
before ;  and  he  could  not  repress  a  smile,  although  he 
wanted  to  appear  indifferent,  when  his  chief  secretary,  in 
order  to  be  agreeable,  told  him  of  the  rumors  which  had 
reached  his  ears  in  regard  to  the  proceedings  of  the  com- 
mission. 

Occupied  as  he  was  with  the  secretary,  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
droviteh  absolutely  forgot  that  the  day  was  Tuesday,  the 
day  set  for  Anna  Arkadyevna's  return  ;  and  he  was  sur- 
prised and  disagreeably  impressed  when  a  domestic  came 
to  announce  that  she  had  come. 

Anna  reached  Petersburg  early  in  the  morning.  A  car- 
riage had  been  sent  for  her  in  response  to  her  telegram,  and 
so  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  might  have  known  of  her  com- 
ing. But  when  she  came,  he  did  not  go  to  receive  her. 
She  was  told  that  he  had  not  come  down  yet,  but  was 
busy  with  his  secretary.  She  bade  the  servant  announce 
her  arrival,  and  then  went  to  her  boudoir,  and  began  to 
unpack  her  things,  expecting  that  he  would  come  to  her. 
But  an  hour  passed,  and  he  did  not  appear.  She  went  to 
the  dining-room,  under  the  pretext  of  giving  some  orders, 
and  spoke  unusually  loud,  thinking  that  he  would  join  her 
there.  But  still  he  did  not  come,  though  she  heard  him  go 
out  from  the  library,  and  take  leave  of  the  secretary.  She 
knew  that  he  generally  went  out  after  his  conference  ;  and  so 
she  wanted  to  see  him,  so  that  their  plan  of  action  might  be 
decided. 

She  went  into  the  hall,  and  finally  decided  to  go  to  him. 
She  stepped  into  the  library.  Dressed  in  his  uniform,  ap- 


336  ANNA  KARtfNINA. 

patently  ready  to  take  his  departure,  he  was  sitting  at  a  little 
table,  on  which  his  elbows  rested.  He  was  wrapped  in 
melancholy  thought.  She  saw  him  before  he  noticed  her, 
and  she  knew  that  he  was  thinking  of  her. 

When  he  caught  sight  of  her,  he  started  to  get  up,  re- 
flected, and  then,  for  the  first  time  since  Anna  had  known 
him,  he  blushed.  Then  quickly  rising,  he  advanced  towards 
her,  not  looking  at  her  face,  but  at  her  forehead  and  hair. 
He  came  to  her,  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  invited  her  to 
sit  down. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  ccrme,"  he  stammered,  sit- 
ting down  near  her,  arid  evidently  desiring  to  talk  with  her. 
Several  times  he  began  to  speak,  but  hesitated. 

Although  she  was  prepared  for  this  interview,  and  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  defend  herself,  and  accuse  him,  she  did 
not  know  what  to  say,  and  pitied  him.  And  so  the  silence 
lasted  some  little  time. 

"  Serozha  well  ? "  at  length  he  asked  ;  and,  without  wait- 
ing for  an  answer,  he  added,  "  I  shall  not  dine  at  home  to- 
day :  I  have  to  go  right  away." 

"  I  intended  to  start  for  Moscow,"  said  Anna. 

"  No  :  you  did  very,  very  well  to  come  home,"  he  replied, 
and  again  was  silent. 

Seeing  that  it  was  beyond  his  strength  to  begin  the  con- 
versation, she  herself  began  :  — 

"  Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch,"  said  she,  looking  at  him,  and 
not  dropping  her  eyes  under  his  gaze,  which  was  still  con- 
centrated on  her  head-dress,  "  I  am  a  guilty  woman  ;  I  am 
a  wicked  woman  ;  but  I  am  what  I  have  been,  —  what  I  told 
you  I  was,  —  and  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  cannot 
change." 

"  I  do  not  ask  for  that,"  he  replied  instantly,  in  a  decided 
voice,  and  looking  with  an  expression  of  hate  straight  into 
her  eyes.  "  I  presupposed  that."  Under  the  influence  of 
anger,  he  apparently  regained  control  of  all  his  faculties. 
"But  as  I  told  you  then,  and  wrote  you  "  (he  spoke  in  a 
sharp,  shrill  voice),  "  I  now  repeat,  that  I  am  not  obliged  to 
have  it  thrust  into  my  face.  I  ignore  it.  Not  all  women 
are  so  good  as  you  are,  to  hasten  to  give  their  husbands 
such  very  pleasant  news."  He  laid  a  special  stress  on  the 
word  "pleasant"  \_priatnoe~\.  "I  will  ignore  it  for  the 
present,  so  long  as  the  world  does  not  know,  —  so  long  as 
my  name  is  not  dishonored.  I,  therefore,  only  warn  you 


ANNA   EARtiNINA.  337 

that  our  relations  must  remain  as  they  always  have  been, 
and  that  onl}*  in  case  of  your  compromising  yourself,  shall  I 
be  forced  to  take  measures  to  protect  my  honor." 

"But  our  relations  cannot  remain  as  they  have  been," 
she  said  with  timid  accents,  looking  at  him  in  terror. 

As  she  once  more  saw  his  undemonstrative  gestures,  heard 
his  mocking  voice  with  its  sharp,  childish  tones,  all  the  pity 
that  she  had  begun  to  feel  for  him  was  driven  away  by  the 
aversion  that  he  inspired,  and  she  had  only  a  feeling  of  fear, 
which  arose  from  the  fact  that  she  did  not  see  any  light  in 
regard  to  their  relations. 

"  I  cannot  be  your  wife,  when  I  "  —  she  began. 

He  laughed  with  a  cold  and  wicked  laugh. 

"  It  must  needs  be  that  the  manner  of  life  which  you  have 
chosen  is  reflected  in  your  ideas.  I  have  too  much  esteem 
or  contempt,  or  rather  I  esteem  your  past,  and  despise  your 
present,  too  much  for  me  to  accept  the  interpretation  which 
you  put  upon  my  words." 

Anna  sighed,  and  bowed  her  head. 

"  Besides.  I  do  not  understand  how  you,  having  so  much 
independence,"  he  continued,  getting  rather  excited,  "and 
telling  \-our  husband  up  and  down  of  your  infidelity,  and  not 
finding  any  thing  blameworthy  in  it,  as  it  seems,  how  you  can 
find  any  thing  blameworthy  either  in  the  fulfilment  of  a  wife's 
duties  to  her  husband." 

"  Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  !  What  do  you  require  of  me?  " 

"  I  require  that  I  may  never  meet  this  man  here,  and  that 
you  comport  yourself  so  that  neither  the  world  nor  our  ser- 
vants can  accuse  you  —  that  }*ou  do  not  see  him.  It  seems 
to  me,  that  this  is  little.  And  in  doing  this,  you  will  enjoy 
the  rights  and  fulfil  the  obligations  of  an  honorable  wife. 
This  is  all  that  I  have  to  say  to  you.  Now  it  is  time  for  me 
to  go.  I  shall  not  dine  at  home." 

He  got  up,  and  went  to  the  door.  Anna  also  arose.  He 
silently  bowed,  and  allowed  her  to  pass. 


XXIV. 

THE  night  spent  by  Levin  on  the  hay-rick  was  not  without 
its  reward.  The  way  in  which  he  administered  his  estate 
aroused  against  him  all  sorts  of  interests.  Notwithstanding 
the  excellent  crops,  never,  or  at  least  it  seemed  to  him 


338  ANNA 

that  never,  had  there  been  such  failure,  and  such  unfriendly 
relations  between  him  and  the  muzhiks,  as  this  year  ;  and 
now  the  reasons  for  this  failure,  and  this  animosity,  were 
especially  clear  to  him.  The  pleasure  which  he  found  in 
work  itself,  the  resulting  acquaintance  with  the  muzhiks,  the 
envy  which  seized  him  when  he  saw  them  and  their  lives, 
the  desire  to  lead  such  a  life  himself,  which  on  that  night 
hud  been  not  visionary  but  real,  the  details  necessary  to 
carry  out  his  desire,  —  all  this  taken  together  had  so  changed 
his  views  in  regard  to  the  management  of  his  estate,  that  he 
could  not  take  the  same  interest  as  before,  and  he  could  not 
help  seeing  how  these  unpleasant  relations  with  the  laborers 
met  him  at  every  new  undertaking.  The  herd  of  improved 
cows,  like  Pava  ;  all  the  fertilized  and  ploughed  lands  ;  nine 
equal  fields  well  planted  ;  the  ninety  desyatins,  covered  with 
oderiferous  dressing  ;  the  deep-drills  and  other  improvements, 
—  all  was  excellent  so  far  as  it  only  concerned  himself  and  the 
people  who  were  in  sympathy  with  him.  But  now  he  clearly 
saw  — and  his  study  of  the  books  on  rural  economy,  in  which 
the  principal  element  was  found  to  be  the  laborer,  may  have 
helped  him  to  this  conclusion  —  that  this  present  manner  of 
carrying  on  his  estate  was  only  a  cruel  and  wicked  struggle 
between  him  and  the  laborers,  in  which  on  one  side,  on  his 
side,  was  a  constant  effort  to  carry  out  his  aspirations  for  the 
accomplishment  of  better  models,  and  on  the  other  side,  the 
natural  order  of  things.  In  tin's  struggle,  he  saw  that  on  his 
side,  there  were  effort  and  lofty  purpose,  and  on  the  other,  no 
effort  or  purpose,  and  that  the  result  was  that  the  estate  went 
from  bad  to  worse  :  beautiful  tools  were  destroj'ed,  beautiful 
cattle  and  lands  ruined.  The  principal  objection  was  the 
energy  absolutely  wasted  in  this  matter ;  but  he  could  not 
help  thinking  now,  when  his  thought  was  laid  bare,  that  the 
aim  of  his  energies  was  itself  unworthy.  In  reality,  where 
lay  this  quarrel?  He  defended  every  penny  of  his  own,  —  and 
he  could  not  help  defending  them,  because  he  was  obliged  to 
use  his  energies  to  the  utmost,  otherwise  he  would  not  have 
wherewithal  to  pay  his  laborers,  —  and  they  defended  their 
right  to  work  lazily  and  comfortably,  in  other  words,  as  they 
had  always  done.  It  was  for  his  interests  that  every  laborer 
should  do  his  very  best ;  above  all,  should  strive  not  to  break 
the  winnowing-machines,  the  horse-rakes,  so  that  he  might 
accomplish  what  he  was  doing.  But  the  laborer  wanted  to  do 
his  work  as  easily  as  possible,  with  long  breathing-spaces  for 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  339 

doing  nothing  and  napping  and  meditating.  The  present 
year.  Levin  found  this  at  every  step.  He  sent  to  mow  the 
clover  for  fodder,  meaning  the  bad  desyatins,  where  there 
promised  to  be  bare  spaces  mixed  with  grass,  and  not  fit 
for  seed  ;  and  they  would  cut  his  best  desyatins,  reserved  for 
seed,  and  allege  as  excuse  that  it  was  the  prikashchik' s 
orders ;  and  they  vexed  him  the  more  because  the  fodder 
was  perfectly  easy  to  distinguish,  but  he  knew  that  they 
took  this  because  on  these  desyatins  it  was  easier  work. 
He  sent  the  winnowing-machine  out,  and  they  broke  it  on 
the  first  trial,  because  some  muzhik  found  it  disagreeable  to 
sit  on  the  trestle  while  the  vans  were  flying  over  his  head. 
And  they  told  him,  ''Don't  vex  yourself  about  it:  the 
babul  will  soon  winnow  it."  They  had  to  give  up  using 
the  new-fangled  ploughs,  because  the  laborer  could  not  get  it 
through  his  head  to  let  down  the  shares ;  or  else  bore  down 
so  that  he  tired  the  horses  out,  and  spoiled  the  land.  The 
horses  got  into  the  wheat-field,  because  not  one  muzhik  was 
willing  to  be  night-watchman :  and  notwithstanding  the 
express  commands  to  the  contrary,  the  laborers  took  turns 
OH  the  night-guard  :  and  Vanka,  who  had  been  working  all 
day.  fell  asleep,  and  acknowledging  his  mistake,  said,  "  Volya 
vaxha  "  [Do  with  us  as  you  please].  Three  of  the  best 
heifers  were  lost  because  they  were  let  into  the  clover-patch 
•without  water,  and  no  one  would  believe  that  the  clover 
would  hurt  them  ;  but  they  told  him  for  his  consolation,  that 
one  hundred  and  twelve  head  had  died  in  the  neighborhood 
in  three  days. 

All  this  was  done,  not  because  there  was  enmity  against 
Levin  or  his  estate.  On  the  contraiy,  he  knew  that  they 
loved  him,  called  him  by  a  title  which  meant  in  their  lips  the 
highest  praise  [prosto'i  baring.  But  they  did  these  things 
simply  because  they  liked  to  work  gayly  and  idly  ;  and  his 
interests  seemed  not  only  strange  and  incomprehensible,  but 
also  fatally  opposed  to  their  own  true  interests.  For  a  long 
time  Levin  had  been  feeling  discontented  with  his  situation. 
He  saw  that  his  canoe  was  leaking,  but  he  could  not  find  the 
leaks ;  and  he  did  not  hunt  for  them,  perhaps  on  purpose 
to  deceive  himself.  Nothing  would  have  been  left  him  if 
.he  had  allowed  his  illusions  to  perish.  But  now  he  could  not 
longer  deceive  himself.  His  farming  was  not  only  no  longer 
interesting,  but  was  disgusting  to  him,  and  he  could  not  put 
his  heart  in  it  tiny  more. 


340  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

To  this  was  added  the  fact  that  Kitty  Shcherbatskai'a  was 
not  more  than  thirty  versts  away,  and  he  wanted  to  see  her, 
and  could  not. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  Oblonskai'a,  when  he  called  upon 
her,  invited  him  to  come, —  to  come  with  the  express  purpose 
of  renewing  his  offer  to  her  sister,  who,  as  she  pretended  to 
think,  now  cared  for  him.  Levin  himself,  after  he  caught 
the  glimpse  of  Kitty  Shcherbatska'ia,  felt  that  he  had  not 
ceased  to  love  her;  but  he  could  not  go  to  the  Oblonskys', 
because  he  knew  that  she  was  there.  The  fact  that  he  had 
offered  himself,  and  she  had  refused  him,  put  an  impassable 
bar  between  them.  "  I  cannot  ask  her  to  be  my  wife,  because 
she  could  not  be  the  wife  of  the  man  whom  she  wanted,"  he 
said  to  himself.  The  thought  of  this  made  him  cold  and 
hostile  towards  her.  "I  have  not  the  strength  to  go  and 
talk  with  her  without  a  sense  of  reproach,  to  look  at  her  with- 
out angry  feelings  ;  and  she  would  feel  the  same  towards  me, 
only  more  so.  And  besides,  how  can  I  go  there  now,  after 
what  Darya  Aleksandrovna  told  me  ?  How  can  I  help  show- 
ing that  I  know  what  she  told  me?  That  I  go  with  mag- 
nanimity,—  to  pardon  her,  to  be  reconciled  to  her!  I,  in 
her  presence,  play  the  role  of  a  pardoning  and  honor-confer- 
ring lover  to  her  !  —  Why  did  Darya  Aleksandrovna  tell  me 
that?  I  might  meet  her  accidentally,  and  then  all  would  go 
of  itself  ;  but  now  it  is  impossible,  impossible  !  " 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  sent  him  a  note,  asking  the  loan  of 
a  side-saddle  for  Kitty.  "  The}-  tell  me  you  have  a  saddle," 
she  wrote  :  "  I  hope  that  you  will  bring  it  yourself." 

This  was  too  much  for  him.  How  could  a  sensible  woman 
of  any  delicacy  so  lower  her  sister?  He  wrote  ten  notes, 
and  tore  them  all  up,  and  then  sent  the  saddle  without  any 
reply.  To  write  that  he  would  come  was  impossible,  because 
he  could  not  come :  to  write  that  he  could  not  come  because 
he  was  busy,  or  was  going  awa}-  somewhere,  was  still  worse. 
So  he  sent  the  saddle  without  any  reply ;  and,  with  the  con- 
sciousness that  he  was  doing  something  disgraceful,  on  the 
next  day,  leaving  the  now  disagreeable  charge  of  the  estate 
to  the  prikashchik,  he  set  off  to  a  distant  district  to  see  his 
friend  Sviazhsky,  who  lived  surrounded  by  a  beautiful  hunt- 
ing-ground, and  who  had  lately  invited  him  to  fulfil  an  old 
project  of  making  him  a  visit.  The  woodcock-marshes  in  the 
district  of  Surof  had  long  attracted  Levin,  but  on  account 
of  his  farm-work  he  had  always  put  off  this  visit.  Now  he 


ANNA   KARtiNlNA.  341 

was  glad  to  go  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  Shcherbatskys, 
and  especially  from  his  estate,  and  to  hunt,  which  for  all  his 
tribulations  was  always  a  sovereign  remedy. 


XXV. 

IN  the  district  of  Surof  there  are  neither  railways  nor  post- 
roads  ;  and  Levin  took  his  own  horses,  and  went  in  a  tarantds 
[travelling-carriage] . 

When  he  was  half  way,  he  stopped  to  get  a  meal  at  the 
house  of  a  rich  muzhik.  The  host,  who  was  a  bald,  ro- 
bust old  man,  with  a  great  red  beard,  growing  gray  on  the 
cheeks,  opened  the  gate,  crowding  up  against  the  post  to  let 
the  troika  enter.  Pointing  the  coachman  to  a  place  under 
the  shed  in  his  large,  neat,  and  orderly  new  court-yard,  the 
starik  invited  Levin  to  enter  the  room.  A  neatly  clad  young 
girl,  with  goloshes  on  her  bare  feet,  was  washing  up  the  floor 
of  the  new  tabernacle.  When  she  saw  Levin's  dog,  she  was 
startled,  and  screamed,  but  was  re-assured  when  she  found 
that  the  dog  would  not  bite.  With  her  bare  arm  she  pointed 
Levin  to  the  guest-room,  then,  bending  over  again,  she  hid  her 
handsome  face,  and  kept  on  with  her  scrubbing. 

"  Want  the  samovar1}  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  please." 

The  guest-room  was  large,  with  a  Dutch  stove  and  a  par- 
tition. Under  the  sacred  images  stood  a  table  ornamented 
with  different  designs,  a  bench,  and  two  chairs.  At  the  en- 
trance was  a  cupboard  with  dishes.  The  window-shutters 
were  closed ;  there  were  few  flies  ;  and  it  was  so  neat  that 
Levin  took  care  that  Laska,  who  had  been  flying  over  the 
road,  and  was  covered  with  splashes  of  mud,  should  not  soil 
the  floor,  and  bade  her  lie  down  in  the  corner  near  the  door. 
Levin  went  to  the  back  of  the  house.  A  good-looking  girl 
in  goloshes,  swinging  her  empty  pails  on  the  yoke,  ran  to  get 
him  water  from  the  well. 

"  Lively  there,"  gayly  shouted  the  starik  to  her ;  and  then 
he  turned  to  Levin.  "So,  sudar  [sir],  you  are  going  to  see 
Nikolai  Ivanovitch  Sviazhsky?  He  often  stops  with  us," 
he  began  to  say  in  his  garrulous  style,  as  he  leaned  on  the 
balustrade  of  the  steps.  But  just  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of 
telling  about  his  acquaintance  with  Sviazhsky,  again  the  gate 
creaked  on  its  hinges,  and  the  workmen  came  in  from  the 


342  ANNA    KARtiNINA. 

fields  with  their  ploughs  and  horses.  The  roan  horses  at- 
taehed  to  the  sok/tas  were  fat  and  in  good  condition.  The 
laborers  evidently  belonged  to  the  family  :  two  were  young 
fellows,  and  wore  cotton  chintz  shirts  [rubdkka],  and  caps. 
The  other  two  were  hired  men,  and  wore  sheepskins  :  one  was 
an  old  man,  the  other  middle-aged. 

The  starik  left  Levin  standing  on  the  porch,  and  began  to 
help  unhitch  the  horses. 

u  What  have  you  been  ploughing?  " 

"  The  potato-fields.  We've  done  one  lot.  —  You,  Fiodot, 
don't  bring  the  gelding,  but  leave  him  at  the  trough :  we'll 
hitch  up  another." 

"  Say,  bdtitishka,  shall  I  tell  'em  to  take  out  the  plough- 
shares, or  to  bring  'em?  "  asked  a  big-framed,  healthy-look- 
ing lad,  evidently  the  starik' 's  son. 

"  Put  'em  iii  the  drags,"  replied  the  starik,  coiling  up  the 
reins,  and  throwing  them  on  the  ground. 

The  handsome  girl  in  goloshes  came  back  to  the  house 
with  her  brimming  pails  swinging  from  her  shoulders.  Other 
bnbui  appeared  from  different  quarters,  some  }7oung  and 
comely,  others  old  and  ugly,  with  children  and  without  chil- 
dren. 

The  samovar  began  to  sing  on  the  stove.  The  workmen 
and  the  men  of  family,  having  taken  out  their  horses,  came 
in  to  dinner.  Levin,  sending  for  his  provisions  from  the 
tarcnitds,  bogged  the  starik  to  take  tea  with  him. 

" Da  tcltt6 !  already  drunk  my  tea,"  said  the  starik,  evi- 
dently flattered  by  the  invitation.  "  However,  for  company's 
sake  "  — 

At  tea  Levin  learned  the  whole  history  of  the  starik's  do- 
mestic economy.  Ten  years  before,  the  starik  had  rented  of 
a  lady  one  hundred  and  twenty  deftyatins,  and  the  year  before 
had  bought  them  ;  and  he  had  rented  three  hundred  more  of  a 
neighboring  land-owner.  A  small  portion  of  this  land,  and 
that  the  poorest,  he  sublet ;  but  four  hundred  deny  at  ins  he 
himself  worked,  with  the  help  of  his  sons  and  two  hired  men. 
The  starik  complained  that  all  was  going  bad  ;  but  Levin  saw 
that  he  complained  only  for  form's  sake,  and  that  his  affairs 
were  flourishing.  If  they  were  bad  he  would  not  have 
bought  land  for  five  hundred  rubles,  or  married  off  his  three 
sons  and  his  nephew,  or  built  twice  after  his  izbti  was 
burned,  and  each  time  better.  Notwithstanding  the  starik' a 
complaints,  it  was  evident  that  he  felt  pride  in  his  prosperity, 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  343 

pride  in  his  sons,  in  his  nephew,  his  daughters,  his  horses, 
his  cows,  and  especially  in  the  fact  that  he  owned  all  this  do- 
main. From  his  conversation  with  the  starik  Levin  learned 
that  he  believed  in  modern  improvements.  He  planted  many 
potatoes  ;  and  his  potatoes,  which  Levin  saw  in  the  storehouse, 
he  had  already  dug  and  brought  in,  while  on  Levin's  estate 
they  had  only  begun  to  dig  them.  He  used  the  plough  on  the 
potato-fields,  as  he  had  ploughs  which  he  got  from  the  propri- 
etor. He  sowed  wheat.  The  little  detail  that  the  starik 
sowed  rye,  and  fed  his  horses  with  it,  especially  struck  Levin. 
Levin  had  seen  this  beautiful  fodder  going  to  ruin,  and  had 
wished  to  harvest  it ;  but  he  found  it  impossible  to  accom- 
plish it.  The  muzhik  used  it,  and  could  not  find  sufficient 
praise  for  it. 

"  How  do  the  women  [babionkf]  do  it?  " 

"Oh!  they  pile  it  up  on  one  side,  and  then  the  telytya 
comes  to  it." 

"  But  with  us  proprietors  every  thing  goes  wrong  with  the 
hired  men,"  said  Levin  as  he  filled  his  teacup  and  offered  it 
to  him. 

"Thank  you,"  replied  the  starik,  taking  the  cup,  but  re- 
fusing the  sugar,  pointing  to  the  lumps  which  lay  in  front 
of  him. 

"How  to  get  along  with  workmen?"  said  he.  "One 
way.  Here's  S  via/risky,  for  example.  We  know  what  splen- 
did land  — but  they  don't  get  decent  crops.  All  comes  from 
lack  of  care." 

"  D<i !  but  how  do  you  do  with  your  workmen  ?  " 

"  It's  all  among  ourselves.  We  watch  every  thing.  Lazy- 
bones, off  they  go  !  We  work  with  our  own  hands." 

"  Bdtiushka,  Finogen  wants  you  to  give  him  the  tar- 
water,"  said  a  baba  in  goloshes,  looking  in  through  the  door. 

"So  it  is,  sudar,"  said  the  starik,  rising;  and,  having 
crossed  himself  many  times  before  the  ikons  [sacred  pic- 
tures], he  once  more  thanked  Levin,  and  left  the  room. 

When  Levin  went  into  the  dark  izba  to  give  orders  to  his 
coachman,  he  found  all  the  "men-folks"  sitting  down  to 
dinner.  The  babui  were  on  their  feet  helping.  The  healthy- 
looking  young  son,  with  his  mouth  full  of  kasha,  got  off^ome 
joke,  and  all  broke  into  loud  guffaws  ;  and  more  hilariously 
than  the  others  laughed  the  baba  in  goloshes,  who  was  pour- 
ing shchi  into  a  tureen. 

It  well  might  be  that  the  jolly  face  of  the  baba  iu  the 


344  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

goloshes  co-operated  powerfully  with  the  whole  impression 
of  orderliness  which  this  peasant  home  produced  on  Levin  : 
but  the  impression  was  so  strong  that  Levin  could  never  get 
rid  of  it ;  and  all  the  way  from  the  starik's  to  Sviazhsky's, 
again  and  again  he  thought  of  what  he  had  seen  at  the  farm- 
house, as  something  deserving  special  attention. 


XXVI. 

SviAZHSKr  was  marshal  \_predvoditeT]  in  his  district.  He 
was  five  years  older  than  Levin,  and  had  been  married  some 
time.  His  sister-in-law  was  a  very  sympathetic  young  lady ; 
and  Levin  knew,  as  marriageable  young  men  usually  know 
such  things,  that  her  friends  wanted  her  to  find  a  husband. 
Although  he  dreamed  of  marriage,  and  was  sure  that  this 
lovable  young  lad}*  would  make  a  charming  wife,  he  would 
sooner  have  been  able  to  fly  to  heaven  than  to  marry  her, 
even  if  he  had  not  been  in  love  with  Kitty  Shcherbatskai'a. 
The  fear  of  being  looked  upon  as  a  suitor  took  the  edge  from 
his  pleasure  in  his  prospective  visit,  and  made  him  hesitate 
about  accepting  his  friend's  invitation.  Sviazhsky's  domes- 
tic life  was  in  the  highest  degree  interesting,  and  Sviazhsky 
himself  was  an  interesting  type  of  the  proprietor  devoted  to 
the  affairs  of  the  province.  He  was  a  thorough-going  libei'al ; 
but  there  was  great  discrepancy  between  the  opinions  which 
he  professed,  and  his  manner  of  living  and  acting.  He  de- 
spised the  nobility,  whom  he  charged  with  hostility  to  eman- 
cipation :  and  he  regarded  Russia  as  a  rotten  country,  whose 
wretched  government  was  scarcely  better  than  Turkey  ;  and 
yet  he  had  accepted  public  office,  and  attended  faithfully  to 
his  duties.  He  never  even  went  out  without  donning  his 
official  cap,  with  its  red  border  and  cockade.  He  declared 
that  human  existence  was  endurable  only  abroad,  where  he 
was  going  to  live  at  the  first  opportunity  ;  but  at  the  same 
time  he  carried  on  in  Russia  a  very  complicated  estate l  in 
the  most  perfect  style,  and  was  interested  in  all  that  was 
going  on  in  Russia,  and  was  fully  up  with  the  times.  The 
Russian  muzhik,  in  his  eyes,  stood  between  man  and  monkey  ; 
but,»when  the  elections  came,  he  gave  his  hand  to  the  peas- 
ants by  preference,  and  listened  to  them  with  the  utmost 

1  KhozydMvo  includes  household  economy,  the  outside  interests,  farming,  mills, 
—  every  thing  connected  with  an  estate.  The  master  of  an  estate  is  called  khozydin, 
the  mistress  khozy&ika,  —  terms  often  used  for  host  and  hostess. 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  345 

attention.  He  believed  neither  in  God  nor  the  Devil ;  but 
he  showed  great  concern  in  ameliorating  the  condition  of  the 
clergy,  and  saw  that  his  village  church  was  kept  in  repair. 
In  regard  to  the  emancipation  of  women,  and  especially  their 
right  to  work,  he  held  the  most  pronounced  and  radical 
ideas  ;  but  he  lived  in  perfect  harmony  with  his  wife,  and 
took  entire  direction  of  the  family  affairs,  so  that  his  wife 
did  nothing,  and  could  do  nothing,  except  in  co-operation 
with  him,  in  order  to  pass  the  time  as  agreeably  as  possible. 

In  spite  of  the  contradictions  in  his  character,  Levin  did 
his  best  to  comprehend  him,  looking  upon  him  as  a  living 
conundrum  ;  and  through  their  social  relations  he  tried  to 
enter  this  strange  man's  inner  consciousness.  The  hunting 
which  Sviazhsky  gave  him  was  poor :  the  marshes  were  dry, 
and  the  woodcock  scarce.  Levin  walked  all  day,  and  got 
only  three  birds  ;  but  the  compensation  was  a  ravenous  ap- 
petite, capital  spirits,  and  that  intellectual  excitement  which 
violent  physical  exercise  always  gave  him. 

In  the  evening,  as  they  sat  at  the  tea-table,  Levin  found 
himself  next  the  khozyri'ika,  a  lady  of  medium  stature  and 
light  complexion,  all  radiant  with  smiles  and  dimples.  Levin 
endeavored,  through  her,  to  unravel  the  enigma  which  her 
husband's  character  afforded  him  ;  but  he  could  not  get  full 
control  of  his  thoughts,  because  opposite  him  sat  the  pretty 
sister-in-law  in  a  dress  worn,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  for  his 
especial  benefit,  with  a  square  corsage  cut  rather  low  in  front, 
and  giving  a  glimpse  of  a  very  white  bosom.  He  did  his 
best  not  to  look  at  her,  buj;  his  eyes  were  constantly  attracted 
to  her ;  and  he  felt  ill  at  ease,  and  his  constraint  was  shared 
by  the  young  lad}-  herself.  But  the  khozydika  seemed  not 
to  notice  it,  and  kept  up  a  lively  conversation. 

"  You  say  that  my  husband  does  not  take  an  interest  in 
Russian  affairs?"  she  asked.  "On  the  contrary,  he  was 
happy  when  he  was  abroad,  but  not  so  happy  as  he  is  here. 
Here  he  feels  that  he  is  in  his  sphere.  He  has  so  much  to  do, 
and  he  takes  especial  pains  to  interest  himself  in  every  thing. 
Ach!  you  have  not  been  to  see  our  school?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,  —  that  little  house  covered  with  ivy?  " 

"Yes:  that  is  Nastia's  work,"  said  she,  glancing  at  her 
sister. 

"Do  you  yourself  teach?"  asked  Levin,  trying  to  look 
at  Nastia's  face,  but  feeling,  that,  in  spite  of  him,  he  would 
seem  to  be  looking  at  the  parted  dress. 


346  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

"  Yes,  I  teach,  and  intend  to ;  but  we  have  an  excellent 
school-m  istress. ' ' 

"  No,  thank  you,  I  will  not  take  any  more  tea,"  said 
Levin.  He  felt  that  he  was  committing  a  solecism  ;  but  he 
could  not  keep  up  the  conversation,  and  he  rose  in  confu- 
sion. "  I  am  very  much  interested  in  what  they  are  saying." 
And  he  went  to  the  other  end  of  the  table,  where  the  kltoz- 
yuin  was  talking  with  two  landed  proprietors.  Sviazhsky 
was  sitting  with  his  side  towards  the  table,  twirling  his 
cup  around  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  stroking  his 
long  beard.  His  bright  black  eyes  were  fixed  with  keen 
amusement  on  one  of  the  proprietors,  a  man  with  a  white 
mustache,  who  was  complaining  bitterly  about  the  peasantry. 
Levin  saw  that  Sviazhsky  had  an  answer  ready  for  the  worthy 
gentleman's  comical  complaints,  and  could  reduce  his  argu- 
ments to  powder  if  his  oih'cial  position  did  not  compel  him 
to  respect  the  proprietor's. 

The  proprietor  with  the  white  mustache  was  evidently 
a  narrow-minded  country  gentleman,  an  inveterate  opponent 
of  the  emancipation,  and  an  old-style  farmer.  Levin  could 
see  the  signs  of  it  in  his  old-fashioned  shiny  coat,  in  his 
keen,  angry  eyes,  in  his  well-balanced  Russian  speech,  in 
his  authoritative,  slow,  and  studied  manner,  and  his  imperi- 
ous gestures  with  his  large,  handsome  hand  ornamented  with 
a  single  wedding-ring. 


XXVII. 

* 

"  IF  it  only  weren't  a  pity  to  abandon  what  has  been 
done,  —  cost  so  much  labor,  —  it  would  be  better  to  give 
up,  sell  out,  go  abroad,  and  hear  '  La  Belle  Ilelene,'  like 
Nikolai  Ivanovitch,"  the  old  proprietor  was  saying;  while 
his  intelligent  face  lighted  up  with  a  smile. 

"Da  vot!  but  still  you  don't  sell  out,"  said  Nikolai' 
Ivanovitch  Sviazhsky:  "so  you  must  be  well  off,  on  the 
whole." 

"  I  am  well  off  in  one  way,  because  I  have  a  home  of 
my  own,  and  don't  hire  or  board.  Besides,  one  always 
hopes  that  the  peasantry  will  improve.  But  would  you 
believe  it, — this  drunkenness,  this  laziness  !  Ever}-  thing  goes 
to  destruction.  No  horses,  no  cows.  They  starve  to  death. 
But  try  to  help  them,  —  take  them  for  farm-hands  :  they 


ANNA  KAE&NINA.  347 

manage  to  ruin  you ;  yes,  even  before  a  justice  of  the 
peace !  "  1 

'•  But  you,  too,  can  complain  to  the  justice  of  the  peace," 
said  Sviazhsky. 

"  What!  I  complain?  Da!  not  for  the  world!  All  such 
talk  shows  that  complaints  are  idle.  Here,  at  the  mill,  they 
took  their  handsel,  and  went  off.  What  did  the  justice  of 
the  peace  do?  Acquitted  them.  Your  only  chance  is  to  go 
to  the  communal  court,  —  to  the  starshind.  The  starshind 
will  have  the  man  thrashed  for  you.  But  for  him,  sell 
out,  fly  to  the  ends  of  the  world  !  " 

The  proprietor  was  evidently  trying  to  tease  Sviazhsky  ; 
but  Sviazhsky  not  only  did  not  lose  his  temper,  but  was 
much  amused. 

"  Da  vat!  we  carry  on  our  estates  without  these  meas- 
ures," said  he,  smiling.  "  I,  Levin,  he." 

He  pointed  to  the  other  proprietor. 

''Yes;  but  ask  Mikhail  Petrovitch  how  his  affairs  are 
getting  along.  Is  that  a  rational  way  [khozyd'ixtvo']?" 
demanded  the  proprietor,  especially  accenting  the  word 
'•  rational  "  [ratsionalnoe^. 

'•  My  way  is  very  simple,"  said  Mikhai'1  Petrovitch, 
"  thank  the  Lord!  My  whole  business  lies  in  seeing  that 
the  money  is  ready  for  the  autumn  taxes.  The  muzhiks 
come,  and  say,  '  Bdtiushka,  help  us,  father.'  Nn!  all 
these  muzhiks  are  neighbors :  I  pity  'em.  Nu  I  I  advance 
'em  the  first  third.  Only  I  say,  '  Remember,  children,  I 
help  you  ;  and  you  must  help  me  when  I  need  you,  — 
sowing  the  oats,  getting  in  the  ha}7,  harvesting.'  Nit  I  I 
get  along  with  them  as  with  my  own  family.  To  be  sure, 
there  are  some  among  them  who  haven't  any  conscience." 

Levin,  who  knew  of  old  about  these  patriarchal  traditions, 
exchanged  glances  with  Sviazhsky  ;  and,  interrupting  Mikhail 
Petrovitch,  he  said,  u  How  would  you  advise?"  addressing 
the  old  proprietor  with  the  gray  mustache.  "  How  do  you 
think  one's  estate  \khozyaistvo^  ought  to  be  managed?" 

"•  Da!  manage  it  just  as  Mikhail  Petrovitch  does,  —  either 
give  half  the  land  to  the  muzhiks,  or  go  shares  with  them. 

1  In  the  Russian  mir,  or  commune,  the  siarxhind,  or  elder,  is  the  chief  elected  every 
three  years.  Before  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs,  in  1861,  each  commune  had  its 
district  court  [voloxtnoi  sudi],  the  decisions  of  which  were  often  very  ridiculous. 
Among  the  reforms  instituted  by  the  Emperor  Alexander  II.  was  the  so-called  jus- 
tice oi  the  peace,  —  more  properly,  jiuliio  of  the  peace  [miroroii  sudyd},  — an  innova- 
tion which  at  first  caused  much  opposition  among  the  peasantry.  See  Wallace's 
"  Kussia,"  and  L<;roy  Beaulieu's  "  L'limpire  des  Tears." 


348  ANNA  KARfiNlNA. 

That  is  possible  ;  but,  all  the  same,  the  wealth  of  the  country 
is  growing  less  and  less.  Places  on  my  lands  which  in  the 
time  of  serfage,  under  good  management  [khosydX&oo],  pro- 
duced ninefold,  now  produce  only  threefold.  Emancipation 
has  ruined  Russia." 

Sviazhsky  looked  at  Levin  with  scornful  amusement  in  his 
eyes,  and  was  just  making  a  gesture  to  express  his  disdain  : 
but  Levin  listened  to  the  old  proprietor's  words  without  any 
feeling  of  scorn  ;  he  understood  them  better  than  he  under- 
stood Sviazhsky.  Much  that  the  old  man  said  in  his  com- 
plaint, that  Russia  was  ruined  by  the  emancipation,  seemed 
to  him  true,  though  his  experience  did  not  go  so  far  back. 
The  proprietor  evidently  expressed  his  honest  thought,  —  a 
thought  which  arose,  not  from  any  desire  to  show  an  idle  wit, 
but  from  the  conditions  of  his  life,  which  had  been  spent  in 
the  country,  where  he  could  see  the  question  practically  from 
every  side. 

"  The  fact  is,"  continued  the  old  proprietor,  who  evidently 
wished  to  show  that  he  was  not  an  enemy  of  civilization, 
"all  progress  is  accomplished  by  force  alone.  Take  the 
reforms  of  Peter,  of  Catharine,  of  Alexander ;  take  European 
history  itself,  —  and  all  the  more  for  progress  in  agriculture. 
The  potato,  for  instance,  —  to  have  potatoes  introduced  into 
Russia  took  force.  We  have  not  always  ploughed  with 
ploughs ;  but  to  get  them  introduced  into  our  domains  took 
force.  Now,  in  our  day,  we  proprietors,  who  had  seignorial 
rights,  could  conduct  our  affairs  to  perfection  :  drying-rooms 
and  winnowing-machines  and  improved  carts  —  all  sorts  of 
tools  —  we  could  introduce,  because  we  had  the  power;  and 
the  muzhiks  at  first  would  oppose,  and  then  would  imitate  us. 
But  now,  by  the  abrogation  of  serfage,  they  have  taken  away 
our  authority  ;  and  so  our  estates  [kliozyd'istvo] ,  now  that 
every  thing  is  reduced  to  the  same  level,  must  necessarily 
sink  back  to  the  condition  of  primitive  barbarism.  This  is 
my  view  of  it." 

"  Da!  but  why?  If  that  were  rational,  then  you  could 
keep  on  with  your  improvements  by  hiring  help,"  said 
Sviazhsky. 

"Not  without  authority.  How  could  I?  allow  me  to 
ask." 

"This  —  this  is  the  working-force,  the  chief  element  in 
the  problem  before  us,"  thought  Levin. 

"With  hired  men." 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  349 

"  Hired  men  will  not  work  well,  or  work  with  good  tools. 
Our  laborers  know  how  to  do  only  one  thing,  — to  drink  like 
pigs,  and,  when  they  are  drunk,  to  spoil  every  thing  that  you 
let  them  have.  They  water  your  horses  to  death,  tear  your 
nice  harnesses,  take  the  tires  off  your  wheels  and  sell  them 
for  drink,  stick  bolts  into  your  winnowing-machines  so  as  to 
make  them  useless.  Every  thing  that  is  not  done  in  their 
way  makes  them  sick  at  the  stomach.  And  thus  the  affairs 
of  our  estates  go  from  bad  to  worse.  The  lands  are  neg- 
lected, and  go  to  weeds,  or  else  are  given  to  the  muzhiks. 
Instead  of  producing  millions  of  tchetverts  [5.775  English 
bushels]  of  wheat,  you  can  raise  only  a  few  hundred  thou- 
sand. The  public  wealth  is  diminishing.  If  they  were 
going  to  free  the  serfs,  the}'  should  have  done  it  gradually." 

And  he  developed  his  own  scheme,  wherein  all  difficulties 
would  have  been  avoided.  This  plan  did  not  interest  Levin, 
and  he  returned  to  his  first  question,  with  the  hope  of  indu- 
cing Sviazhsky  to  tell  what  he  seriously  thought  about  it. 

"  It  is  very  true  that  the  level  of  our  agriculture  is  grow- 
ing lower  and  lower,  and  that  in  our  present  relations  with 
the  peasantry,  it  is  impossible  to  carry  on  our  estates  ration- 
ally," he  said. 

"  I  am  not  of  that  opinion,"  said  Sviazhsky  seriously.  "  I 
deny  that,  since  serfage  was  abolished,  agriculture  has  de- 
cayed ;  and  I  argue  that  in  those  days  it  was  very  wretched, 
and  very  low.  We  never  had  any  machines,  or  good  cattle, 
or  decent  supervision.  We  did  not  even  know  how  to  count. 
Ask  a  proprietor :  he  could  not  tell  you  what  a  thing  cost,  or 
what  it  would  bring  him." 

"Italian  book-keeping!"  said  the  old  proprietor  ironi- 
cally. "  Reckon  all  you  please,  and  get  things  mixed  as 
much  as  you  please,  there  will  be  no  profit  in  it." 

"  Why  get  things  mixed  up?  Your  miserable  flail,  your 
Russian  topchatchek,  will  break  all  to  pieces :  my  steam- 
thresher  will  not  break  to  pieces.  Then  your  wretched  nags  ; 
how  are  they?  A  puny  breed  that  you  can  pull  by  the  tails, 
comes  to  nothing  ;  but  our  percherons  are  vigorous  horses, 
they  amount  to  something.  And  so  with  every  thing.  Our 
agriculture  [khozydistvo']  always  needed  to  be  pushed." 

'•  Da!  but  it  would  need  some  power,  Nikolai  Ivanuitch. 
Very  well  for  you ;  but  when  one  has  one  son  at  the  uni- 
versity, and  several  others  at  school,  as  I  have,  he  can't 
afford  to  buy  percherons. 


350  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

"There  are  banks  on  purpose." 

"  To  have  my  last  goods  and  chattels  sold  under  the  ham- 
mer. No,  thank  you  !  " 

"  I  don't  agree  that  it  is  necessary  or  possible  to  lift  the 
level  of  agriculture  much  higher,"  said  Levin.  "  I  am  much 
interested  in  this  question  ;  and  I  have  the  means,  but  I  can- 
not do  any  thing.  And  as  for  banks,  I  don't  know  whom 
they  profit.  And  up  to  the  present  time,  whatever  I  have 
spent  on  my  estate,  has  resulted  only  in  loss.  Cattle  —  loss  ; 
machines  —  loss." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  old  proprietor  with  the  gray 
mustache,  laughing  with  hearty  satisfaction. 

"  And  I  am  not  the  only  man,"  Levin  continued.  "  I  call 
to  mind  all  those  who  have  made  experiments  in  the  '  rational 
manner.'  All,  with  few  exceptions,  have  come  out  of  it  with 
losses.  Nu!  you  say  that  your  estate  [khozydistvo']  is  — 
profitable?  "  he  asked,  seeing  in  Sviazhsky's  face  that  tran- 
sient expression  of  embarrassment  which  he  noticed  when 
he  wanted  to  penetrate  farther  into  the  reception-room  of 
Sviazhsky's  mind. 

However,  this  question  was  not  entirely  fair  play  on 
Levin's  part.  The  khozydika  told  him  at  tea  that  they  had 
just  had  a  German  expert  up  from  Moscow,  who,  for  five  hun- 
dred rubles'  fee,  agreed  to  put  the  book-keeping  of  the  estate 
in  order ;  and  he  found  that  there  had  been  a  net  loss  of 
about  three  thousand  rubles. 

The  old  proprietor  smiled  when  he  heard  Levin's  ques- 
tion about  the  profits  of  Sviazhsky's  management.  It  was 
evident  that  he  knew  about  the  state  of  his  neighbors' 
finances. 

"  May  be  unprofitable,"  replied  Sviazhsky.  "This  only 
proves  that  either  I  am  a  poor  economist  [kkozy&n],  or 
I  sink  my  capital  to  increase  the  revenue." 

"  Ach!  revenue!"  cried  Levin,  with  horror.  "Maybe 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  revenue  in  Europe,  where  the  land  is 
better  for  the  labor  spent  upon  it ;  but  with  us,  the  more 
labor  spent  on  it,  the  worse  it  is  —  that  is  because  it  exhausts 
it  —  so  there  is  no  revenue." 

"  How,  no  revenue?     It  is  a  law?  " 

"  Then  we  are  exceptions  to  the  law.  The  word  revenue 
\renta]  has  no  clearness  for  us,  and  explains  nothing,  but 
rather  confuses.  No  ;  tell  me  how  revenue  "  — 

"Won't  you  have  some  curds? —    Masha,  send  us  some 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  351 

curds  or  some  raspberries,"  said  Sviazhsky  to  his  wife. 
"  Raspberries  have  lasted  unusually  late  this  year." 

And,  with  his  usual  jovial  disposition  of  soul,  Sviazhsky 
got  up  and  went  out,  evidently  assuming  that  the  discussion 
was  ended,  while  for  Levin  it  seemed  that  it  had  only  just 
begun. 

Levin  was  now  left  with  the  old  proprietor,  and  continued 
to  talk  with  him,  endeavoring  to  prove  that  all  the  trouble 
arose  from  the  fact  that  we  did  not  try  to  understand  our 
laborer's  habits  and  peculiarities.  But  the  old  proprietor, 
like  all  people  accustomed  to  think  alone  and  for  himself, 
found  it  difficult  to  enter  into  the  thought  of  another,  and 
clung  firmly  to  his  own  opinions.  He  declared  that  the 
Russian  muzhik  was  a  pig,  and  loved  swinishness,  and  that 
it  needed  force  to  drive  him  out  of  his  swinishness,  or  else  a 
stick  ;  but  we  are  such  liberals  that  we  have  swapped  off  the 
thousand-year-old  stick  for  these  lawyers  and  jails,  where 
the  good-for-nothing,  stinking  muzhik  gets  fed  on  good  soup, 
and  has  his  pure  air  by  the  cubic  foot. 

"  Why,"  asked  Levin,  wishing  to  get  back  to  the  ques- 
tion, "  do  you  think  that  it  is  impossible  to  reach  an  equilib- 
rium which  will  utilize  the  forces  of  the  laborer,  and  render 
them  productive  ?  ' ' 

"That  will  never  come  about  with  the  Russian  people: 
there  is  no  authority,"  replied  the  proprietor. 

"  How  could  new  conditions  be  found?"  asked  Sviazhsky, 
who  had  been  eating  his  curds,  and  smoking  a  cigarette,  and 
now  approached  the  two  disputants.  "All  the  needful  forms 
are  ready  for  use,  and  well  learned.  That  relic  of  barbarism, 
the  primitive  commune  where  each  member  is  responsible 
for  all,  is  falling  to  pieces  of  its  own  weight;  the  seigno- 
rial  right  has  been  abolished  ;  now  there  remains  only  free 
labor,  and  its  forms  are  right  at  hand,  —  the  dajMaborer, 
the  journeyman,  the  farmer,  —  and,  now  get  rid  of  that  if 
you  can  !  " 

"  But  Europe  is  weary  of  these  forms." 

"Yes,  and  perhaps  will  find  new  ones,  and  will  progress 
probably." 

"  This  is  all  I  say  about  that,"  said  Levin.  "  Why  should 
we  not  seek  for  them  on  our  side?  " 

"  Because  it  is  just  the  same  as  if  we  should  try  to  find 
new  ways  of  building  railroads.  They  are  all  ready,  they 
are  thought  out." 


352  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

"  But  if  they  do  not  suit  us?  if  they  are  hurtful?  "  Levin 
demanded. 

And  again  he  saw  the  frightened  look  in  Sviazhsky's  eyes. 

"Da!  this:  we  throw  up  our  caps,  we  follow  wherever 
Europe  leads  !  All  this  I  know  ;  but  tell  me,  are  you  ac- 
quainted with  all  this  is  doing  in  Europe  about  the  labor 
question?  " 

"No;  very  little." 

"  This  question  is  now  occupying  the  best  minds  in  Europe. 
Schulze  Delitzsch  and  his  school,  then  all  this  prodigious 
literature  on  the  labor  question,  the  tendencies  of  the  ad- 
vanced liberal  Lassalle,  the  organization  of  Miilhausen, — 
this  is  all  a  fact,  you  must  know." 

"  I  have  an  idea  of  it,  but  it's  very  vague." 

"  No,  you  only  say  so  :  you  know  all  this  as  well  as  I  do. 
I  don't  set  up  to  be  a  professor  of  social  science,  but  these 
things  interest  me ;  and  I  assure  you,  if  they  interest  you, 
you  should  go  into  them." 

"  But  where  do  they  lead  you?  "  — 

"  Beg  pardon." 

The  two  pomyeshchiks  got  up  ;  and  Sviazhsky,  again  arrest- 
ing Levin  just  as  he  was  about  to  carry  out  his  intention  of 
sounding  the  depths  of  his  mind,  went  out  with  his  guests. 


XXVIII. 

LEVIN  spent  the  evening  with  the  ladies,  and  found  it  un- 
endurably  stupid.  His  mind  was  stirred,  as  never  before,  at 
the  thought  of  the  disgust  that  he  felt  in  the  administration 
of  his  estate.  It  seemed  to  him  not  exclusively  his  own 
affair,  but  a  public  trust  which  concerned  Russia,  and  that 
an  organization  of  labor,  in  such  a  manner  as  he  saw  at  the 
muzhik's  on  the  highway,  was  not  an  illusion,  but  a  problem 
to  be  solved.  And  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  settle  this 
problem,  and  that  he  must  attempt  to  do  it. 

Levin  bade  the  ladies  good-night,  promising  to  give  them 
the  next  morning  for  a  horseback  ride  to  see  some  interest- 
ing slides  in  the  Crown  woods.  Before  going  to  bed  he  went 
to  the  library,  to  get  some  of  the  books  on  the  labor  question 
which  Sviazhsky  had  recommended.  Sviazhsky's  library 
was  an  enormous  room,  all  lined  with  book-shelves,  and 
having  two  tables,  one  a  massive  writing-table,  standing  in 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  353 

the  centre  of  the  room,  and  the  other  round,  and  laden  with 
recent  numbers  of  journals  and  reviews,  in  various  languages, 
arranged  about  the  lamp.  Near  the  writing-table  was  a 
cabinet  [s£o?A:a],  holding  drawers  with  gilt  lettering  for  the 
reception  of  all  sorts  of  papers. 

Sviazhsky  got  the  volumes,  and  sat  down  in  a  rocking- 
chair. 

"What  is  that  you  are  looking  at?"  he  asked  of  Levin, 
who  was  standing  by  the  round  table,  and  turning  the  leaves 
of  a  review.  Levin  held  up  the  review.  "  Oh,  yes  !  there 
is  a  very  interesting  article  there.  "  It  appears,"  he  added 
with  gay  animation,  "that  the  principal  culprit  in  the  parti- 
tion of  Poland  was  not  Frederic  after  all.  It  appears"  — 
and  he  gave  with  that  clearness  which  was  characteristic  of 
him,  a  digest  of  these  new  and  important  discoveries.  Levin, 
who  was  now  more  interested  in  the  labor  question  than  in 
any  thing,  listened  to  his  friend,  and  asked  himself,  "  What 
is  he  in  reality  ?  and  why,  why  does  the  partition  of  Poland 
interest  him?"  When  Sviazhsky  was  through,  Levin  could 
not  help  sa\'ing,  "Nu!  and  what  of  it?"  But  there  was 
nothing  to  say.  It  was  interesting  simply  from  the  fact  that 
it  "  appeared."  But  Sviazhsky  did  not  explain,  and  did  not 
care  to  explain,  why  it  was  interesting  to  him. 

"Da/  but  the  irascible  old  proprietor  interested  me  very 
much,"  said  Levin,  sighing.  "  He's  sensible,  and  a  good 
deal  of  what  he  says  is  true." 

"Ach!  don't  speak  of  it!  he  is  a  confirmed  slaveholder 
at  heart,  like  all  the  rest  of  them." 

"  With  you  at  their  head  "  — 

"  Yes,  only  I  am  trying  to  lead  them  in  the  other  direc- 
tion," replied  Sviazhsky,  laughing. 

"  His  argument  struck  me  very  forcibly,"  said  Levin. 
"  He  is  right  when  he  says  that  our  affairs,  that  the  '  rational 
management,' 1  cannot  succeed  ;  that  the  only  kind  that  can 
succeed  is  the  money-lending  kind  of  the  other  proprietor,  or, 
in  other  words,  the  most  simple.  Who  is  to  blame  for  it?  " 

"We  ourselves,  of  course.  Da!  even  then  it  is  not  true 
that  it  does  not  succeed.  It  succeeds  with  Vasiltchikof." 

"The  mill"  — 

"  But  what  is  there  surprising  about  it?  The  peasantry 
stand  on  such  a  low  plane  of  development,  both  materially 
and  morally,  that  it  is  evident  that  they  must  oppose  all  that 

1  Jiataiondlnoe  khozydistvo. 


354  ANNA  KAEfiNINA. 

is  strange  to  them.  In  Europe  the  'rational  management' 
succeeds  because  the  people  are  civilized.  In  the  first  place, 
we  must  civilize  our  peasantry,  — that's  the  point." 

"  But  how  will  you  civilize  them?  " 

"To  civilize  the  people,  three  things  are  necessary, — 
schools,  schools,  and  schools." 

"  But  you  yourself  say  that  the  peasantry  stand  on  a  low 
plane  of  material  development.  What  good  will  schools  do 
in  that  respect?  " 

"  Do  you  know,  you  remind  me  of  a  story  of  the  advice 
given  a  sick  man:  'You  had  better  try  a  purgative.'  He 
tries  it:  grows  worse.  '  Apply  leeches.'  He  tries  it :  grows 
worse.  '  Nu!  then  pray  to  God.'  He  tries  it :  grows  worse. 
So  it  is  with  you.  I  say  political  economy  :  you  say  you're 
worse  for  it.  I  suggest  socialism :  worse  still.  Education  : 
still  worse." 

"  Da!     But  what  can  schools  do?  " 

"  Thej"  will  create  other  necessities." 

"  But  this  is  just  the  very  thing  I  could  never  under- 
stand," replied  Levin  vehemently.  "  In  what  way  will 
schools  help  the  peasantry  to  better  their  material  condition  ? 
You  say  that  schools  —  education  —  will  create  new  needs. 
So  much  the  worse,  because  the}'  will  not  have  the  ability  to 
satisfy  them  ;  and  I  could  never  see  how  a  knowledge  of 
addition  and  subtraction  and  the  catechism  could  help  them 
to  better  themselves  materially.  Day  before  yesterday  I  met 
a  baba  with  a  baby  at  the  breast,  and  I  asked  her  where  she 
had  been.  She  said,  '  To  the  babka's : l  the  child  was  dis- 
tressed, and  I  took  him  to  be  cured.'  —  '  How  did  the  babka 
cure  the  child?  '  —  '  She  sat  him  on  the  hen-roost,  and  mut- 
tered something.'  ' 

"  Nu,  vot!"  cried  Sviazhsky,  laughing  heartily.  "You 
yourself  confess  it.  In  order  to  teach  them  that  they  can't 
cure  children  by  setting  them  on  hen-roosts,  you  must'*  — 

"  Ach,  no!"  interrupted  Levin,  with  some  vexation. 
"  Your  remedy  of  schools  for  the  people,  I  compared  to  the 
babka's  method  of  curing.  The  peasantry  are  wretched  and 
uncivilized  :  this  we  see  as  plainly  as  the  baba.  saw  her  child's 
distress  because  he  was  crying.  But  that  schools  can  raise 
them  from  their  wretchedness  is  as  inconceivable  as  the  hen- 
roost cure  for  sick  children.  You  must  first  remed}'  the 
cause  of  the  misery." 

1  Jiabka,  diminutive  of  baba,—n  peasant  grandmother;  popular  name  for  the 
midwife. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  355 

"  Nu!  In  this  at  least  you  agree  with  Spencer,  whom  you 
do  not  like.  He  says  that  civilization  can  result  from  in- 
creased happiness  and  comfort  in  life,  from  frequent  ablu- 
tions, but  not  by  learning  to  read  and  cipher  "  — 

"  Nu,  vot!  I  am  very  glad,  or  rather  very  sorry,  if  I  am 
in  accord  with  Spencer.  But  this  I  have  felt  for  a  long  time  : 
it  can't  be  done  by  schools  ;  only  by  economical  organization, 
in  which  the  peasantry  will  be  richer,  will  have  more  leisure. 
Then  schools  will  come." 

"  Nevertheless,  schools  are  obligatory  now  all  over 
Europe." 

"But  how  would  you  harmonize  this  with  Spencer's 
ideas?"  asked  Levin. 

But  into  Sviazhsky's  eyes  again  came  the  troubled  expres- 
sion ;  and  he  said  with  a  smile,  "  No,  this  story  of  the  baba 
was  capital !  Is  it  possible  that  you  heard  it  yourself?  " 

Levin  saw  that  there  was  no  connection  between  this  man's 
life  and  his  thoughts.  Evidently  it  was  of  vei'y  little  con- 
sequence to  him  where  his  conclusions  led  him.  Only  the 
process  of  reasoning  was  what  appealed  to  him  ;  and  it  was 
unpleasant  when  this  process  of  reasoning  led  him  into  some 
stupid,  blind  alley. 

All  the  impressions  of  this  day,  beginning  with  the  muzhik 
on  the  highway,  which  seemed  somehow  to  give  a  new  basis 
to  his  thoughts,  filled  Levin's  mind  with  commotion.  Sviazh- 
sky  and  his  inconsequential  thoughts  ;  the  testy  old  proprie- 
tor, perfectly  right  in  his  judicious  views  of  life,  but  wrong 
in  despising  one  entire  class  in  Russia,  and  perhaps  the  best ; 
his  own  relations  to  his  work,  and  the  confused  hope  of 
setting  things  right  at  last,  —  all  this  caused  him  a  sensation 
of  trouble  and  alarmed  expectation. 

Going  to  his  room,  lying  under  the  feather-bed  which 
exposed  his  arms  and  legs  every  time  he  moved,  Levin 
could  not  get  to  sleep.  His  conversation  with  Sviazhsky, 
though  many  good  things  were  said,  did  not  interest  him ; 
but  the  old  proprietor's  arguments  pursued  him.  Levin  in- 
voluntarily remembered  every  word  that  he  said,  and  his 
imagination  supplied  the  answer. 

"  Yes,  I  ought  to  have  said  to  him,  '  You  say  that  our 
management  is  not  succeeding  because  the  muzhik  despises 
all  improvements,  and  that  force  must  be  applied  to  them. 
But  if  our  estates  were  not .  retrograding,  even  where  these 
improvements  are  not  found,  you  would  be  right ;  but  they 


356  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

advance  only  where  the  work  is  carried  on  in  consonance 
with  the  customs  of  the  laborers,  as  at  the  house  of  the 
stank  on  the  highway.  Our  failure  to  earn"  on  our  estates 
profitably,  results  either  from  our  fault  or  that  of  the 
laborers.'  ' 

And  thus  he  carried  on  a  train  of  thought  which  led  him 
to  an  examination  of  what  plan  would  best  suit  both  the 
laborer  and  the  proprietor.  The  thought  of  co-operation 
came  over  him  with  all  its  force.  Half  the  night  he  did  not 
sleep,  thinking  of  his  new  plans  and  schemes.  He  had  not 
intended  to  leave  so  soon,  but  now  he  decided  to  go  home 
on  the  morrow.  Moreover,  the  memory  of  the  young  lady 
with  the  open  dress  came  over  him  with  a  strange  shame 
and  disgust.  But  the  main  thing  that  decided  him  was  his 
desire  to  establish  his  new  project  before  the  autumn  harvests, 
so  that  the  muzhiks  might  reap  under  the  new  conditions. 
He  had  decided  entirely  to  reform  his  method  of  administra- 
tion. 

XXEX. 

THE  carrying-out  of  Levin's  plan  offered  man}*  difficulties  ; 
but  he  persevered,  though  he  recognized  that  the  results 
obtained  would  not  be  in  proportion  to  the  labor  involved. 
One  of  the  principal  obstacles  which  met  him  was  the  fact 
that  his  estate  was  already  in  runn ing-order,  and  that  it  was 
impossible  to  come  to  a  sudden  stop  and  begin  anew.  He 
had  to  wind  the  machine  up  by  degrees. 

When  he  reached  home  in  the  evening,  he  summoned  his 
prikashchik,  and  explained  to  him  his  plans.  The  prikash- 
chik received  with  undisguised  satisfaction  all  the  details  of 
this  scheme  so  far  as  they  showed  that  all  that  had  been 
done  hitherto  was  absurd  and  unproductive.  The  prikashchik 
declared  that  he  had  long  ago  told  him  so,  but  that  his  words 
had  not  been  heard.  But  when  Levin  proposed  to  share 
the  profits  of  the  estate  with  the  laborers,  on  the  basis  of 
an  association,  the  prikashchik  put  on  an  expression  of  mel- 
ancholy, and  immediately  began  to  speak  of  the  necessity  of 
bringing  in  the  last  sheaves  of  wheat,  and  commencing  the 
second  ploughing  ;  and  Levin  felt  that  now  was  not  a  propitious 
time.  On  conversing  with  the  muzhiks  about  his  project  of 
dividing  with  them  the  products  of  the  earth,  he  quickly  per- 
ceived that  they  were  too  much  occupied  with  their  daily 


ANNA  KAIttiNINA.  357 

tasks  to  comprehend  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of 
his  enterprise. 

A  keen  muzhik,  Ivan  the  skotnik,  to  whom  Levin  proposed 
to  share  in  the  profits  of  the  cattle,  seemed  to  comprehend 
and  to  approve  ;  but  every  time  that  Levin  went  on  to  speak  of 
the  advantages  that  would  result,  Ivan's  face  grew  troubled, 
and,  without  waiting  to  hear  Levin  out,  he  would  hurry  off  to 
attend  to  some  work  that  could  not  be  postponed,  —  either 
to  pitch  the  hay  from  the  pens,  or  to  draw  water,  or  to  clear 
away  the  manure. 

The  chief  obstacle  consisted  in  the  inveterate  distrust  of 
the  peasants,  who  would  not  believe  that  a  proprietor  could 
have  any  other  aim  than  to  despoil  them.  Whatever  rea- 
soning he  might  employ  to  convince  them,  they  still  held  to 
then-  conviction  that  his  real  purpose  was  hidden.  They,  on 
their  side,  made  many  words ;  but  the}*  carefully  guarded 
against  telling  what  they  intended  to  do.  Levin  remembered 
the  angry  proprietor  when  the  peasants  demanded,  as  the 
first  and  indispensable  condition  for  their  new  arrangements, 
that  they  should  never  be  bound  to  any  of  the  new  agricultural 
methods,  or  to  use  the  improved  tools.  They  agreed  that  the 
new-fashioned  plough  worked  better,  that  the  weed-extirpator 
was  more  successful ;  but  they  invented  a  thousand  excuses 
not  to  make  use  of  them.  Whatever  regret  he  felt  at  giving 
up  processes,  the  advantages  of  which  were  self-evident,  he 
let  them  have  their  wa}' ;  and  by  autumn  the  new  arrange- 
ment was  in  working-order,  or  at  least  seemed  to  be. 

At  first  Levin  intended  to  give  up  his  whole  domain  to  the 
new  association  of  workmen.  But  very  soon  he  found  that 
this  was  impracticable  ;  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  limit  it 
to  the  cattle,  the  garden,  the  kitchen-garden,  the  hay-fields, 
and  some  lands,  situated  at  some  distance,  which  for  eight 
years  past  had  been  lying  fallow.  Ivan,  the  keen  skotnik, 
formed  an  association  \_artel~j  composed  of  members  of  his 
family,  and  took  charge  of  the  cattle-yard.  The  new  field 
was  taken  by  the  shrewd  carpenter  Feodor  R£zunof,  who 
joined  with  him  seven  families  of  muzhiks;  and  the  muzhik 
Shuraef  entered  into  the  same  arrangements  for  superin- 
tending the  gardens. 

It  was  true  that  matters  were  not  carried  on  in  the  cattle- 
yard  any  better  than  before,  and  that  Ivan  was  obstinate  in 
his  mistakes  about  feeding  the  cows  and  churning  the  butter, 
and  found  it  impossible  to  comprehend  or  take  any  interest 


358  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

in  the  fact  that  henceforth  his  wages  would  be  represented 
by  a  proportion  of  the  profits  of  the  association.  It  was 
true  that  Rezunof  did  not  give  the  field  a  second  ploughing,  as 
he  had  been  advised  to  do.  It  was  true  that  the  muzhiks  of 
this  company,  although  they  had  agreed  to  take  this  work 
under  the  new  conditions,  called  this  land,  not  common  land, 
but  shared-land,  and  that  Rezunof  did  not  complete  the  barn 
that  he  had  agreed  to  build  before  winter.  It  was  true  that 
Shuraef  tried  to  give  away  the  products  of  the  gardens  to 
the  other  muzhiks,  seeming  to  be  under  the  impression  that 
the  land  had  been  given  to  him.  But,  in  spite  of  all  these 
drawbacks,  Levin  still  persevered,  hoping  to  be  able  to  show 
his  associates  at  the  end  of  the  year  that  the  new  order  of 
things  could  bring  excellent  results. 

All  these  changes  in  the  administration  of  the  estate,  to- 
gether with  his  work  in  the  library  on  his  new  book,  so  filled 
his  time  that  he  scarcely  ever  went  out,  even  to  hunt. 

Towards  the  end  of  August  the  Oblonskys  returned  to 
Moscow,  as  he  learned  through  the  man  that  brought  back 
the  saddle.  The  memory  of  his  rudeness  in  not  answering 
Darya  Aleksandrovna's  note,  or  going  to  call  upon  them, 
caused  him  a  pang  of  shame  ;  and  he  felt  that  his  conduct 
toward  Sviazhsky  had  not  been  much  more  gentlemanly  :  but 
he  was  too  busy  to  have  time  to  think  of  his  remorse.  His 
reading  absorbed  him.  He  finished  the  books  which  Sviazh- 
sky loaned  him,  and  others  on  political  economy  and  social- 
ism, which  he  sent  for.  Among  the  writers  on  political 
economy,  Mill,  which  he  studied  first,  interested  him,  but 
seemed  to  him  to  offer  nothing  applicable  to  the  agrarian 
situation  in  Russia.  Modern  socialism  did  not  satisfy  him 
any  more.  Either  they  were  beautiful  but  impracticable 
fancies,  such  as  he  dreamed  when  he  was  a  student,  or  mod- 
ifications of  that  situation  of  things  applicable  to  Europe, 
but  offering  no  solution  for  the  agrarian  question  in  Russia. 
Political  economy  said  that  the  laws  in  which  the  happiness 
of  Europe  was  developed  and  would  develop  were  universal 
and  fixed ;  socialistic  teachings  said  that  progress  accord- 
ing to  these  laws  would  lead  to  destruction  ;  but  there  was 
nothing  that  he  could  find  that  cast  the  light  on  the  means 
of  leading  him  and  all  the  Russian  muzhiks  and  agricultur- 
ists, with  their  millions  of  hands  and  of  desyatins,  to  more 
successful  methods  of  reaching  prosperity.  As  he  went  on 
reading,  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  would  be  an  advantage  to 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  359 

go  abroad  and  study  on  the  spot  certain  special  questions, 
so  as  not  to  be  always  sent  from  one  authority  to  another, — 
to  Kaufman,  to  Le  Bois,  to  Michelet. 

He  saw  clearly  now  that  Kaufman  and  Michelet  could  not 
answer  these  questions  for  him.  He  knew  what  he  wanted. 
He  saw  that  Russia  possessed  an  admirable  soil  and  admi- 
rable workmen,  and  that  in  certain  cases,  as  with  the  muzhik 
by  the  highway,  the  land  and  the  workmen  could  produce 
abundantly,  but  that,  when  capital  was  spent  upon  them  in 
the  European  manner,  they  produced  scarcely  any  thing. 
This  contrast  could  not  be  the  result  of  chance.  The  Rus- 
sian people  he  thought  destined  to  colonize  these  immense 
spaces,  cling  to  their  traditions  and  to  their  own  ways  and 
customs  ;  and  who  is  to  say  that  they  are  wrong?  And  he 
wanted  to  demonstrate  this  theory  in  his  book,  and  put  it 
into  practice  on  his  land. 

XXX. 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  September  the  lumber  was  brought 
for  the  construction  of  a  barn  on  the  artel  land,  and  the 
butter  was  sold,  and  showed  a  profit.  The  new  adminis- 
tration, on  the  whole,  worked  admirably,  or  at  least  it 
seemed  so  to  Levin.  But  in  order  to  put  the  theories 
into  a  clear  light,  and  to  view  all  the  different  sides  of 
political  economy,  he  felt  that  it  was  necessary  .to  go 
abroad,  and  to  learn,  from  practical  observation,  all  that 
might  be  of  use  to  him  in  regard  to  the  relations  of  the 
people  to  the  soil.  He  was  only  waiting  for  the  delivery 
of  the  wheat  to  get  his  money,  and  make  the  journey.  But 
the  autumn  rains  set  in,  and  a  part  of  the  wheat  and  pota- 
toes were  not  as  yet  garnered.  All  work  was  at  a  stand- 
still, and  it  was  impossible  to  deliver  the  wheat.  The  roads 
were  impracticable,  two  mills  were  washed  away,  and  the 
situation  seemed  to  be  growing  worse  and  worse. 

But  on  the  morning  of  the  30th  of  September  the  sun 
came  out ;  and  Levin,  hoping  for  a  change  in  the  weather, 
sent  the  prikashchik  to  the  merchant  to  negotiate  for  the 
sale  of  the  wheat. 

He  himself  went  out  for  a  tour  of  inspection  of  the 
estate,  in  order  to  make  the  last  remaining  arrangements 
for  his  journey.  Having  accomplished  all  that  he  wished, 
he  returned  at  nightfall,  wet  from  the  rivulets  that  trickled 


360  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

down  his  neck  from  his  leather  coat  and  inside  his  high 
boots,  but  in  a  happy  and  animated  frame  of  mind.  The 
storm  towards  evening  had  increased ;  but  he  put  up  with 
all  the  difficulties  of  the  way,  and,  under  his  bashluik,  he 
felt  happy  and  comfortable.  His  talks  with  the  peasants 
over  the  whole  district  convinced  him  that  they  were  begin- 
ning to  get  used  to  his  arrangements ;  and  an  old  dvornik 
[hostler] ,  at  whose  house  he  stopped  to  get  dry,  evidently 
approved  of  his  plan,  and  wanted  to  join  the  association 
for  the  purchase  of  cattle. 

"  All  it  requires  is  obstinate  perseverance,  and  I  shall 
come  out  of  it  all  right,"  thought  Levin.  "  I  am  not 
working  for  myself  alone  ;  but  the  question  concerns  the 
good  of  all.  The  whole  way  of  managing  on  estates, 
the  condition  of  all  the  people,  may  be  changed  by  it.  In- 
stead of  misery,  universal  well-being,  contentment ;  instead 
of  unfriendliness,  agreement  and  union  of  interests  :  in  a 
word,  a  bloodless  revolution,  but  a  mighty  revolution,  be- 
ginning in  the  little  circuit  of  our  district,  then  reaching 
the  province,  Russia,,  the  whole  world  !  The  thought  is 
so  just  that  it  cannot  help  being  fruitful.  Da!  this 
goal  is  worth  working  for.  And  the  fact  that  I,  Kostia 
Levin,  my  own  self,  a  man  who  went  to  a  ball  in  a  black 
necktie,  and  was  rejected  by  a  Shcherbatsky ,  a  stupid  and 
a  good-for-nothing,  that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  —  I 
believe,  that  Franklin  felt  that  he  was  just  such  a  good- 
for-nothing,  and  had  just  as  little  faith  in  himself,  when 
he  took  himself  into  account.  And,  indeed,  he  had  his 
Agafya  Mikhailovna  also,  to  whom  he  confided  his  secrets." 

With  such  thoughts,  Levin  reached  home  in  the  dark. 
The  prikashchik,  who  had  been  to  the  merchant,  came  and 
handed  him  the  money  from  the  sale  of  the  wheat.  The 
agreement  with  the  dvornik  was  drawn  up ;  and  then  the 
prikashchik  told  how  he  had  seen  wheat  still  standing  in 
the  field  by  the  road,  while  his  one  hundred  and  sixty 
stacks,  already  brought  in,  were  nothing  in  comparison  to 
what  others  had. 

After  supper  Levin  sat  down  in  his  chair,  as  usual,  with 
a  book  ;  and  as  he  read  he  began  to  think  of  his  projected 
journey,  especially  in  connection  with  his  book.  His  mind 
was  clear,  and  his  ideas  fell  naturally  into  flowing  periods, 
which  expressed  the  essence  of  his  thought.  "This  must 
be  written  down,"  he  said  to  himself.  He  got  up  to  go  to 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  361 

his  writing-table ;  and  Laska,  who  had  been  lying  at  his 
feet,  also  got  up,  and,  stretching  herself,  looked  at  him.  as 
though  asking  where  he  was  going.  But  he  had  no  time 
for  writing ;  for  the  nntchalniks  came  for  their  orders,  and 
he  had  to  go  to  meet  them  in  the  anteroom. 

After  giving  them  their  orders,  or  rather,  having  made  ar- 
rangements for  their  morrow's  work,  and  having  received  all 
the  muzhiks  who  came  to  consult  with  him,  Levin  went  back 
to  his  library,  and  sat  down  to  his  work.  Laska  lay  under 
the  table  :  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  with  her  knitting,  took  her 
usual  place. 

After  writing  some  time,  Levin  suddenly  arose,  and  began 
to  walk  up  and  down  the  room.  The  memon'  of  Kitty  and 
her  refusal,  and  the  recent  glimpse  of  her,  came  before  his 
imagination  with  extraordinary  vividness. 

"Da!  why  trouble  yourself  ?"  asked  Agafya  Mikhailovna. 
"  Nu!  why  do  you  stay  at  home?  You  had  better  go  to  the 
warm  springs  if  your  mind  is  made  up." 

"  I  am  going  day  after  to-morrow,  Agafya  Mikhailovna  ; 
but  I  had  to  finish  up  my  business." 

"  Nul  your  business,  indeed!  Haven't  you  given  these 
muzhiks  enough  already  ?  And  they  say,  '  Our  barin  is 
after  some  favor  from  the  Tsar ; '  and  strange  it  is.  Why 
do  you  work  so  for  the  muzhiks?  " 

"  I  am  not  working  for  them  :  I  am  doing  for  m.yself." 

Agafya  Mikhailovna  knew  all  the  details  of  Levin's  plans, 
for  he  had  explained  them  to  her,  and  he  had  often  had  dis- 
cussions with  her  ;  but  now  she  entirely  misapprehended  what 
he  said  to  her. 

"  For  your  own  soul  it  is  certainly  important;  to  think 
of  that  is  above  every  thing,"  said  she  with  a  sigh.  "•  Here 
is  Parfen  Denisitch  :  although  he  could  not  read,  yet  may 
God  give  us  all  to  die  as  he  did !  They  confessed  him  and 
gave  him  extreme  unction  " 

"I  did  not  mean  that,"  said  he:  "I  mean  that  I  am 
working  for  my  own  profit.  It  would  be  more  profitable  to 
me  if  the  muzhiks  would  work  better." 

4i  Da!  you  will  only  have  your  labor  for  your  pains.  The 
lazy  will  be  lazy.  Where  there's  a  conscience,  there'll  be 
work  :  if  not.  nothing  will  be  done." 

"  Nn!  da!  But  don't  you  yourself  say  that  Ivan  is  be- 
ginning to  look  out  for  the  cows  better?  " 

"  I  say  this  one  thing,"  replied  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  evi- 


362  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

dently  following  a  thought  that  was  not  new  to  her:  "You 
must  get  married,  that's  what." 

Agafya  Mikhailovna's  observation  about  the  very  matter 
that  pre-occupied  him  angered  him  and  insulted  him.  He 
frowned,  and,  without  replying,  sat  down  to  his  work  again. 
Occasionally  he  heard  the  clicking  of  Agafya  Mikai'lovua's 
needles  ;  and,  remembering  what  he  did  not  wish  to  remem- 
ber, he  would  frown. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  sound  of  bells  was  heard,  and  the 
heavy  rumbling  of  a  carriage  on  the  muddy  road. 

"  Nu!  here's  some  visitors  coming  to  see  you  :  you  won't 
be  bored  any  more,"  said  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  rising,  and 
going  to  the  door.  But  Levin  stepped  ahead  of  her.  His 
work  did  not  progress  now,  and  he  was  glad  to  see  any  guest. 


XXXI. 

As  Levin  went  down-stairs  he  heard  the  sound  of  a 
familiar  cough  ;  but  the  sound  was  somewhat  mingled  with 
the  noise  of  footsteps,  and  he  hoped  that  he  was  mistaken. 
Then  he  saw  the  tall  but  bony  figure  which  he  knew  so  well. 
But  even  now,  when  there  seemed  to  be  no  possibility  of 
deception,  he  hoped  still  that  he  was  mistaken,  and  that  this 
tall  man  who  was  divesting  himself  of  his  shuba,  and  cough- 
ing, was  not  his  brother  Nikolai. 

Levin  loved  his  brother,  but  it  was  always  extremely 
disagreeable  to  live  with  him.  Now  especially,  when  Levin 
was  under  the  influence  of  the  thoughts  and  suggestions 
awakened  by  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  and  was  in  a  dull  and 
melancholy  humor,  the  presence  of  his  brother  was  indeed  an 
affliction.  Instead  of  a  gay,  healthy  visitor,  some  stranger, 
who,  he  hoped,  would  drive  awa}T  his  perplexities,  he  was 
obliged  to  receive  his  brother,  who  knew  him  through  and 
through,  who  could  read  his  most  secret  thoughts,  and  who 
would  oblige  him  to  share  them  with  him.  And  this  he  dis- 
liked above  all  things. 

Angry  with  himself  for  his  unworthy  sentiments,  Levin 
ran  down  into  the  vestibule ;  and,  as  soon  as  he  saw  his 
brother,  the  feeling  of  personal  discomfort  instantly  dis- 
appeared, and  was  succeeded  by  a  feeling  of  pity.  His 
brother  Nikolai  was  more  feeble  than  he  had  ever  seen 
him  before.  He  was  like  a  skeleton  covered  with  skin. 


ANNA  KAE&NINA.  363 

He  was  standing  in  the  vestibule  trying  to  unwind  a 
scarf  from  his  long,  thin  neck  ;  and,  when  he  saw  Levin, 
he  smiled  with  a  strangly  melancholy  smile.  When  he  saw 
his  brother's  humble  and  pitiful  smile,  he  felt  a  choking 
sensation. 

"  Vot!  I  have  come  to  you,"  said  Nikolai  in  a  thick  voice, 
and  not  for  a  second  taking  his  eyes  from  his  brother's  face. 
"  I  have  been  wanting  to  come  for  a  long  time  ;  da!  I  was 
so  ill.  Now  I  am  very  much  better,"  he  added,  rubbing  his 
beard  with  his  great  bony  hand. 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Levin;  and,  as  he  touched  his 
brother's  shrivelled  cheeks  with  his  lips,  and  saw  the  gleam 
of  his  great,  strangely  brilliant  eyes,  he  felt  a  sensation  of 
fear. 

Some  time  before  this,  Konstantin  Levin  had  written  his 
brother,  that,  having  disposed  of  the  small  portion  of  their 
common  inheritance,  consisting  of  personal  property,  a  sum 
of  two  thousand  rubles  was  due  as  his  share. 

Nikolai  said  that  he  had  come  to  get  this  money,  and 
especially  to  see  the  old  nest ;  to  put  his  foot  on  the  na- 
tal soil,  so  as  to  get  renewed  strength,  like  the  heroes 
of  ancient  times.  Notwithstanding  his  tall,  stooping  form, 
notwithstanding  his  frightful  emaciation,  his  movements 
were,  as  they  had  always  been,  quick  and  impetuous. 
Levin  took  him  to  his  room. 

Nikolai  changed  his  dress,  and  took  great  pains  with  his 
toilet,  which  in  former  times  he  neglected.  He  brushed 
his  coarse,  thin  hair,  and  went  up-stairs  radiant.  He  was 
in  the  same  gay  and  happy  humor  that  Konstantin  had 
seen  when  he  was  a  child.  He  even  spoke  of  Sergei 
Ivanovitch  without  bitterness.  When  he  saw  Agafya  Mi- 
khailovna,  he  jested  with  her,  and  questioned  her  about  the 
old  servants.  The  news  of  Parfen  Denisitch  made  a  deep 
impression  upon  him.  A  look  of  fear  crossed  his  face, 
but  he  instantly  recovered  himself. 

"He  was  very  old,  was  he  not?"  he  asked,  and  quickly 
changed  the  conversation.  "Da!  I  am  going  to  stay  a 
mouth  or  two  with  you,  and  then  go  back  to  Moscow. 
You  see,  Miagkof  has  promised  me  a  place,  and  I  shall 
enter  the  service.  Now  I  have  turned  over  a  new  leaf  en- 
tirely," he  added.  "  You  see,  I  have  sent  away  that 
woman." 

"  Mary  a  Nikolayevua  ?     How?     What  for?" 


364  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

"Ach!  she  was  a  wretched  woman  !  She  caused  all  sorts 
of  tribulations."  But  he  did  not  tell  what  the  tribula- 
tions were.  He  could  not  say  that  he  had  sent  Marya  Niko- 
layevna  away  because  she  made  his  tea  too  weak,  still  less 
because  she  insisted  on  treating  him  as  an  invalid. 

"  Then,  besides,  I  wanted  to  begin  an  entirely  new  kind  of 
life.  I  think,  like  everybody  else,  that  I  have  committed 
follies:  but  the  present,  —  I  mean  the  last  one,  —  I  don't 
regret  it,  provided  only  I  get  better ;  and  better,  thank  the 
Lord  !  I  feel  already." 

Levin  listened,  and  tried,  but  tried  in  vain,  to  find  some- 
thing to  say.  Apparently  Nikolai  suspected  something  of 
the  sort :  he  began  to  ask  him  about  his  affairs ;  and  Kon- 
stantin,  glad  that  he  could  speak,  frankly  related  his  plans 
and  his  experiments  in  reform. 

Nikolai  listened,  but  did  not  show  the  least  interest. 

These  two  men  were  so  related  to  each  other,  and  there 
was  such  a  bond  between  them,  that  the  slightest  motion,  the 
sound  of  their  voices,  spoke  more  clearly  than  all  the  words 
that  they  could  say  to  each  other. 

At  this  moment  both  were  thinking  the  same  thought,  — 
Nikolai's  illness  and  approaching  death  ;  and  all  else  was  idle 
words.  Neither  of  them  dared  make  the  least  allusion  to  it, 
and  therefore  all  that  was  said  was  in  realit}'  untrue.  Never 
before  had  Levin  been  so  glad  for  an  evening  to  end,  for 
bed-time  to  come.  Never,  even  when  obliged  to  pay  official 
visits,  had  he  felt  so  false  and  unnatural  as  this  evening. 
And  the  consciousness  of  this  unnaturaluess,  and  his  regret, 
made  him  more  unnatural  still.  His  heart  was  breaking  to 
see  his  beloved  dying  brother ;  but  he  was  obliged  to  dis- 
semble, and  to  talk  about  what  his  brother  was  going  to  do. 

As  at  this  time  the  house  was  damp,  and  only  one  room 
was  warm,  Levin  offered  to  let  his  brother  share  his  room. 

Nikolai  went  to  bed,  and  slept  the  uneasy  sleep  of  an 
invalid,  turning  restlessly  from  side  to  side.  Sometimes, 
when  it  was  hard  for  him  to  breathe,  he  would  cr}"  out,  "  Ach  I 
Bozlie  moil"  Sometimes,  when  the  dampness  choked  him, 
he  would  grow  angry,  and  cry  out,  "  Ah,  the  Devil !  "  Levin 
could  not  sleep  as  he  listened  to  him.  His  thoughts  were 
varied,  but  they  always  returned  to  one  theme,  —  death. 

Death,  the  inevitable  end  of  all,  for  the  first  time  appeared 
to  him  with  irresistible  force.  And  death  was  here,  with 
this  beloved  brother,  who  groaned  in  his  sleep,  and  called 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  365 

now  upon  God,  now  upon  the  Devil.  It  was  with  him  also : 
this  he  felt.  Not  to-day,  but  to-morrow  ;  not  to-morrow,  but 
in  thirty  years  :  was  it  not  all  the  same  ?  And  what  this 
inevitable  death  was,  —  not  only  did  he  not  know,  not  only 
had  he  never  before  thought  about  it,  but  he  had  not  wished, 
had  not  dared,  to  think  about  it. 

"Here  I  am  working,  wanting  to  accomplish  something, 
but  I  forgot  that  all  must  come  to  an  end,  —  death." 

He  was  lying  in  bed  in  the  darkness,  holding  his  knees, 
scarcely  able  to  breathe,  so  great  was  the  tension  of  his 
mind.  The  more  he  thought,  the  more  clearly  he  saw  that 
from  his  conception  of  life  he  had  omitted  nothing  except 
this  one  little  factor,  death,  which  might  come,  and  end  all, 
and  that  there  was  no  help  against  it  —  not  the  least.  "  Da  ! 
this  is  terrible,  but  so  it  is  ! 

"  Da!  but  I  am  still  alive.  Now,  what  can  be  done  about 
it?  what  can  be  done?  "  he  asked  in  despair.  He  lighted  a 
candle,  and  softly  arose,  and  went  to  the  mirror,  and  began 
to  look  at  his  face  and  his  hair.  "  Da!  "  on  the  temples  a 
few  gray  hairs  were  to  be  seen.  He  opened  his  mouth.  His 
teeth  showed  signs  of  decay.  He  doubled  up  his  muscular 
arms.  "  Da!  much  strength.  But  this  poor  Nikolinka,  who 
is  breathing  so  painfully  with  the  little  that  is  left  of  his 
lungs,  also  had  at  one  time  a  healthy  body."  And  suddenly 
he  remembered  how  when  they  were  children,  and  were  put  to 
bed,  they  would  wait  until  Feodor  Bogdanuitch  got  out  of  the 
door,  and  then  begin  a  pillow-fight,  and  laugh,  laugh  so  un- 
restrainedly, that  not  even  the  fear  of  Feodor  Bogdanuitch 
could  quench  this  exuberant  gayety  of  life.  "  But  now  there 
he  lies  in  bed  with  his  poor  hollow  chest  —  and  I  —  ignorant 
wh\",  and  what  will  become  of  me  "  — 

'•  Kha!  kha!  ah!  what  the  Devil  are  you  doing?  Why 
don't  you  go  to  sleep?  "  demanded  his  brother's  voice. 

"  I  don't  know  ;  insomnia,  I  guess." 

"But  I  have  been  sleeping  beautifully.  I  have  not  had 
any  sweat  at  all.  Just  feel,  —  no  sweat." 

Levin  felt  of  him,  then  he  got  into  bed  again,  put  out  the 
caudle,  but  it  was  long  before  he  went  to  sleep.  Still  in  his 
mind  arose  this  new  question,  how  to  live  so  as  to  be  ready 
for  the  inevitable  death  ? 

"  Nu!  he  is  dying  !  Nu!  he  will  die  in  the  spring.  Nu! 
how  to  aid  him  ?  What  can  I  say  to  him  ?  What  do  I  know 
about  it?  I  had  even  forgotten  that  there  was  such  a 
thing." 


366  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

Levin  had  long  been  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  often- 
times the  gentleness  and  excessive  humility  of  some  people 
are  abruptly  transformed  into  unreasonableness  and  peremp- 
toriness.  He  foresaw  that  this  would  be  the  case  with  his 
brother ;  and  in  fact,  Nikolai's  sweet  temper  was  not  of  long 
duration.  On  the  very  next  morning  he  awoke  in  an  ex- 
tremely irritable  temper,  and  immediately  began  to  stir  up 
his  brother  by  touching  him  in  the  most  tender  spot. 

Levin  was  conscious  of  his  fault,  but  he  could  not  be  frank. 
He  felt  that  if  they  had  not  dissimulated  their  thoughts,  but 
had  spoken  from  their  very  hearts,  they  would  have  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes,  and  he  would  have  said  only  this : 
"  You  are  going  to  die,  }'ou  are  going  to  die  ;  "  and  Nikolai' 
would  have  answered  only  this:  "I  know  that  I  am  dying, 
and  I  am  afraid,  afraid,  afraid."  And  they  would  have  said 
more  if  they  had  spoken  honestly  from  their  hearts.  But  as 
this  sincerity  was  not  possible,  Konstantin  endeavored,  always 
without  success,  to  speak  of  indifferent  subjects  ;  and  he  felt 
that  his  brother  divined  his  insincerity,  and  was  therefore 
irritated  and  angry,  and  found  fault  with  all  that  he  said. 

On  the  third  day  Nikolai  began  to  discuss  the  question  of 
his  brother's  reforms,  and  to  criticise  them,  and  in  a  spirit 
of  contrariety  to  confound  his  scheme  with  communism. 

"  You  have  only  taken  your  idea  from  some  one  else  ; 
and  you  distort  it,  and  want  to  apply  it  to  what  is  not 
suited  to  receive  it." 

"Da!  but  I  tell  you  that  the  two  have  nothing  in  com- 
mon. I  have  no  thought  of  copying  communism,  which 
denies  the  right  of  property,  of  capital,  of  inheritance  ;  but 
I  do  not  disregard  these  stimuli."  Levin  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  use  some  other  word,  but  at  this  time  he  found 
himself,  in  spite  of  him,  compelled  to  use  non-Russian 
words.  "  All  I  want  is,  to  regulate  labor." 

' '  In  other  words,  you  borrow  a  foreign  idea :  you  take 
away  from  it  all  that  gives  it  force,  and  you  pretend  to 
make  it  pass  as  new,"  said  Nikolai,  angrily  twitching  at 
his  necktie. 

"  Da!  my  idea  has  not  the  slightest  resemblance  "  — 

"This  idea,"  interrupted  Nikolai,  smiling  ironically,  and 
with  an  angry  light  in  his  eyes,  —  "communism,  —  has  at 
least  one  attractive  feature,  —  and  you  might  call  it  a  geo- 
metrical one, —  it  has  clearness  and  logical  certainty.  Maybe 
it  is  a  Utopia.  But  let  us  agree  that  it  can  produce  a  new 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  367 

form  of  work  by  making  a  tabula  rasa  of  the  past,  so  that 
there  shall  not  be  property  or  family,  but  only  freedom  of 
labor.  But  you  don't  accept  this  "  — 

"  But  why  do  you  confound  them?  I  never  was  a  com- 
munist." 

"  But  I  have  been  :  and  I  believe  that  if  communism  is 
premature,  it  is,  at  least,  reasonable  ;  and  it  is  as  sure  to 
succeed  as  Christianity  was  in  the  early  centuries." 

"And  I  believe  that  labor  is  an  elemental  force,  which 
must  be  studied  from  the  same  point  of  view  as  the  natural 
sciences,  to  learn  its  constitution  and  "  — 

"Da/  this  is  absolutely  idle.  This  force  goes  of  itself, 
and  takes  different  forms,  according  to  the  degrees  of  its 
enlightenment.  Everywhere  this  order  has  been  followed,  — 
slaves,  then  metayers,  free  labor,  and,  here  in  Russia,  there 
is  the  farm,  the  arend  [leased  farms],  manufactures. — 
What  more  do  you  want?  " 

Levin  took  fire  at  these  last  words,  the  more  because  he 
feared  in  his  secret  soul  that  his  brother  was  right  in  blam- 
ing him  for  wanting  to  discover  a  balance  between  com- 
munism and  the  existing  forms. 

"  I  am  trying  to  find  a  form  of  labor  which  will  be  prof- 
itable for  all,  —  for  me  and  the  workingman,"  he  replied 
warmly. 

"That  is  not  what  you  wish  to  do;  it  is  simply  this: 
you  have,  all  your  life  long,  sought  to  be  original ;  and 
you  want  to  prove  that  3*ou  are  not  exploiting  the  muzhik, 
but  are  working  for  a  principle." 

"Nu !  since  you  think  so —  let's  quit,"  replied  Konstantin, 
feeling  the  muscles  of  his  right  cheek  twitch  involuntarily. 

"  You  never  had  any  convictions,  and  you  only  wanted 
to  flatter  your  conceit." 

"  Nu!  that  is  very  well  to  say,  —  but  let's  quit  this." 

"  Certainly  I  will  stop.  You  go  to  the  Devil !  and  I  am 
very  sorry  that  I  came." 

Levin  tried  in  vain  to  calm  him.  Nikolai'  would  not  listen 
to  a  word,  and  persisted  in  saying  that  they  had  better  sepa- 
rate ;  and  Konstantin  saw  that  it  was  not  possible  to  live 
with  him. 

Nikolai'  had  already  made  his  preparations  to  depart,  when 
Koustantiu  came  to  him,  and  begged  him,  in  a  way  that  was 
not  entirely  natural,  for  forgiveness,  if  he  had  offended  him. 

"Ah,  now!  here's  magnanimity,"  said  Nikolai,  smiling. 


368  ANNA 

"If  you  are  very  anxious  to  be  in  the  right,  then  let  us  agree 
that  this  is  sensible.  You  are  right,  but  I  am  going  all  the 
same." 

At  the  last  moment,  however,  as  Nikolai  kissed  his  brother, 
a  strange  look  of  seriousness  came  on  him.  "  Kostia,"  he 
said,  "  don't  lay  it  up  against  me."  And  his  voice  trem- 
bled. 

These  were  the  only  words  which  were  spoken  sincerely. 
Levin  understood  what  they  meant.  "  You  see  and  know 
that  I  am  miserable,  and  we  may  not  meet  again."  And  the 
tears  came  into  his  eyes.  Once  more  he  kissed  his  brother, 
but  he  could  not  find  any  thing  to  say. 

On  the  third  day  after  his  brother's  departure,  Levin  went 
abroad.  At  the  railway  station  he  met  Shcherbatsky,  Kitty's 
cousin,  and  astonished  him  greatly  by  his  melancholy. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  asked  Shcherbatsky. 

"  Da!  nothing,  except  that  there  is  little  happiness  in  this 
world." 

"Little  happiness?  Just  come  with  me  to  Paris  instead 
of  going  to  some  place  like  Mulhouse.  I'll  show  you  how 
gay  it  is." 

"  No,  I  am  done  for.     I  am  ready  to  die." 

"  What  a  joke!  "  said  Shcherbatsky,  laughing.  "I  am 
just  learning  how  to  begin." 

"  I  felt  the  same  a  little  while  ago,  but  now  I  know  that 
my  life  will  be  short."  Levin  said  what  he  honestly  felt  at 
this  time.  All  that  he  saw  before  him  was  death.  But  still 
he  was  just  as  much  interested  as  ever  in  his  projects  of 
reform.  It  was  necessary  to  keep  his  life  occupied  till  death 
should  come.  Darkness  seemed  to  cover  every  thing  ;  but  he 
felt  that  the. only  way  for  him  to  pass  through  the  darkness 
was  to  occupy  himself  with  his  labors  of  reform,  and  he 
clung  to  them  with  all  the  force  of  his  character. 


ANNA  EAR&NINA.  369 


PART  IV. 

I. 

KARENIN  and  his  wife  continued  to  live  under  the  same 
roof,  to  meet  every  day,  and  yet  to  remain  entire  strangers 
to  each  other.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  made  a  point  of 
avoiding  comments  from  the  servants  by  appearing  with  his 
wife,  but  he  seldom  dined  at  home.  Vronsky  was  never 
seen  there  :  Anna  met  him  outside,  and  her  husband  knew  it. 

All  three  suffered  from  a  situation  which  would  have  been 
intolerable,  had  not  each  believed  it  to  be  transitory.  Alek- 
sei Aleksandrovitch  expected  to  see  this  passion,  like  every 
thing  else  in  the  world,  come  to  an  end  before  his  name  was 
dishonored.  Anna,  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble,  and  the  one 
on  whom  the  consequences  weighed  the  most  cruelly,  only  ac- 
cepted her  position  in  the  conviction  that  a  crisis  was  near  at 
hand.  As  to  Vronsky,  he  had  come  to  believe  as  she  did. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  winter  Vronsky  had  to  spend  a 
tiresome  week.  He  was  delegated  to  show  a  foreign  prince 
about  St.  Petersburg  ;  and  this  honor,  due  to  his  irreproach- 
able bearing,  and  his  familiarity  with  foreign  languages,  was 
disagreeable  to  him.  The  prince  was  anxious  to  be  able  to 
answer  any  questions  that  might  be  put  to  him  on  his  return, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  enjoy  all  the  pleasures  peculiar  to  the 
country ;  so  he  had  to  be  instructed  during  the  day,  and 
amused  in  the  evening.  This  prince  enjo}-ed  exceptionally 
good  health,  even  for  a  prince ;  and,  owing  to  the  scrupu- 
lous care  he  took  of  himself,  he  could  endure  excessive  fa- 
tigue, remaining  all  the  while  as  fresh  as  a  great,  green, 
shiny  Dutch  cucumber.  He  had  been  a  great  traveller,  rec- 
ognizing in  the  great  advantage  of  easy  modern  communi- 
cation a  means  of  amusing  himself  in  various  ways.  In 
Spain  he  had  given  serenades,  and  fallen  in  love  with  a 
Spauish  girl  who  played  the  mandolin  ;  in  Switzerland  he 


370  ANNA  KAE£NINA. 

had  chased  the  chamois  ;  in  England  leaped  ditches  in  a  red 
shooting-jacket,  and  shot  two  hundred  pheasants  on  a  wager  ; 
in  Turkey  he  had  penetrated  a  harem  ;  in  India  he  had  rid- 
den the  elephant ;  and  now  he  intended  to  taste  the  pleasures 
of  Russia. 

Vronsky,  as  master  of  ceremonies,  arranged,  with  no  little 
difficulty,  a  programme  of  amusements,  truly  Russian  in 
character.  There  were  races,  blinui,  or  carnival  cakes,  bear- 
hunts,  troika  parties,  gypsies,  and  feasts  set  forth  with 
Russian  dishes,  and  the  prince  quickly  entered  into  the  spirit 
of  these  Russian  sports,  broke  his  waiter  of  glasses  with  the 
rest,  took  a  gypsy  girl  on  his  knee,  and  then  asked  himself 
if  the  whole  pleasure  of  the  Russians  consisted  only  in  this, 
without  going  farther. 

More  than  in  all  the  pleasures  which  the  Russians  could 
offer  him,  the  prince  took  delight  in  French  actresses,  ballet- 
dancers,  and  white-seal  champagne. 

Vronsky  was  well  acquainted  with  princes,  but  either  be- 
cause he  had  changed  of  late,  or  else  because  he  had  too 
close  a  view  of  this  particular  prince,  this  week  seemed  ter- 
ribly long  to  him.  He  experienced  the  feelings  of  a  man 
placed  in  charge  of  a  dangerous  lunatic,  who  dreaded  his 
patient,  and  feared  for  his  own  reason.  In  spite  of  the 
official  reserve  which  restrained  him,  he  grew  red  with  anger 
more  tMan  once,  in  listening  to  the  prince's  remarks  about 
the  Russian  women  whom  he  condescended  to  study.  What 
irritated  Vronsky  most  violently  about  this  man,  was  that  he 
found  in  him  a  reflection  of  his  own  individuality,  and  it  was 
not  a  flattering  mirror.  The  image  that  he  saw  there  was 
that  of  a  very  stupid,  very  self-confident,  very  healthy,  fas- 
tidious man,  of  even  temperament  with  his  superiors,  simple 
and  good-natured  with  his  equals,  coolly  kind  towards  his 
inferiors.  He  was  a  gentleman,  and  Vronsky  could  not  deny 
the  fact.  Vronsky  conducted  himself  in  exactly  the  same 
way,  and  was  proud  of  it :  but  in  his  relations  to  the  prince 
he  was  the  inferior,  and  this  contemptuous  treatment  of  him- 
self nettled  him.  "Stupid  ox!  Is  it  possible  that  I  am 
like  him?"  he  thought.  So,  at  the  end  of  the  week,  when 
he  took  leave  of  the  prince,  who  was  on  his  way  to  Moscow, 
he  was  delighted  to  be  delivered  from  this  inconvenient  situ- 
ation and  this  disagreeable  mirror.  They  went  directly  to 
the  station  from  a  bear-hunt,  which  had  occupied  all  the  night 
with  brilliant  exhibitions  of  Russian  daring. 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  371 


IT. 

ON  his  return  home,  Vronsky  found  a  note  from  Anna. 
"  I  am  ill  and  unhappy,"  she  wrote.  "  I  cannot  go  out,  and 
I  cannot  live  longer  without  seeing  you.  Come  this  evening. 
Aleksei  Aleksamlrovitch  will  be  at  the  council  from  seven 
o'clock  till  ten."  This  invitation,  given  in  spite  of  her  hus- 
band's formal  prohibition,  seemed  strange  to  him ;  but  he 
finally  decided  to  go  to  Anna's. 

Since  the  beginning  of  the  winter,  Vronsky  had  been  a 
colonel,  and  since  he  had  left  the  regiment  he  lived  alone. 
After  breakfast  he  stretched  himself  out  on  the  sofa,  and 
the  recollection  of  the  scenes  of  the  day  before  became  curi- 
ously mingled  in  his  mind  with  Anna  and  a  peasant,  whom 
he  met  at  the  hunt :  he  finally  fell  asleep,  and  when  he 
awoke,  night  had  come.  He  lighted  a  candle,  with  an  im- 
pression of  fear  that  he  could  not  explain.  "  What  has  hap- 
pened to  me?  What  terrible  dream  have  I  had?"  he  asked 
himself.  "  Yes,  yes,  the  peasant,  a  dirty  little  man,  with 
a  dishevelled  beard,  bent  something  or  other  up  double,  and 
pronounced  some  strange  words  in  French.  I  didn't  dream 
any  thing  else:  why  am  I  so  terrified?"  But,  in  recalling 
the  peasant  and  his  incomprehensible  French  words,  he  be- 
gan to  shiver  from  head  to  foot.  "  What  foolishness  !  "  he 
thought  as  he  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  more  than  half- 
past  eight :  he  called  his  servant,  dressed  quickly,  went  out, 
and,  entirely  forgetting  his  dream,  thought  only  of  being  late. 

As  he  approached  the  Karenins'  house,  he  again  looked  at 
his  watch,  and  saw  that  it  was  ten  minutes  of  nine.  A 
coupe,  drawn  by  two  gray  horses,  stood  in  front  of  the  door : 
he  recognized  Anna's  carriage.  "She  is  coming  to  my 
house,"  he  said  to  himself:  "that  will  be  much  better.  I 
hate  this  house,  but,  however,  I  am  not  going  to  appear  as  if 
I  wished  to  conceal  myself;  "  and  with  the  presence  of  mind 
of  a  man  accustomed  from  childhood  to  put  himself  at  his 
ease,  he  left  his  sleigh,  and  mounted  the  steps.  The  door 
opened,  and  the  Swiss  servant,  carrying  a  plaid,  motioned  to 
the  carriage  to  draw  near.  As  little  observing  as  Vronsky 
was,  he  was  struck  by  the  astonished  look  on  the  Swiss  ser- 
vant's face :  he  went  on,  however,  and  came  near  running 
against  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch.  •  A  gaslight  placed  at  the 
entrance  of  the  vestibule  threw  full  light  on  his  pale,  worn 


372  ANNA  KARtiNlNA. 

face.  He  wore  a  black  hat ;  and  his  white  cravat,  tied 
under  a  fur  collar,  was  conspicuous.  Karenin's  gloomy,  dull 
eyes  fixed  themselves  upon  Vronsky,  who  bowed.  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch,  drawing  his  lips  together,  lifted  his  hand  to 
his  hat,  and  passed.  Vronsky  saw  him  get  into  his  carriage 
without  turning  round,  take  his  plaid  and  opera-glass,  which 
the  Swiss  servant  handed  through  the  door,  and  disappear. 

"  What  a  situation  !  "  thought  Vronsky,  as  he  entered  the 
ante-room,  his  eyes  burning  with  anger.  "  If  he  still  wished 
to  defend  his  honor,  I  should  know  what  to  do  to  express 
my  sentiments  in  some  sort  of  passion  ;  but  this  weakness, 
and  this  cowardice.  —  I  appear  as  though  I  had  come  to 
deceive  him,  which  is  not  true." 

Since  the  explanation  that  he  had  had  with  Anna  in  the 
Vrede  garden,  Vronsky's  idea  had  changed  very  much:  he 
had  renounced  all  dreams  of  ambition  incompatible  with  his 
irregular  situation,  and  only  thought  of  the  possibility  of  a 
rupture ;  thus  was  he  ruled  by  the  weaknesses  of  his  friend, 
and  by  his  feelings  for  her.  As  to  Anna,  after  having  given 
herself  up  entirely,  she  expected  nothing  in  the  future  which 
did  not  come  from  Vronsky.  While  crossing  the  reception- 
room,  he  heard  footsteps  drawing  near,  and  knew  that  she 
was  entering  the  drawing-room  near  by,  to  watch  for  him. 
"  No,"  she  cried,  seeing  him  enter,  "  things  cannot  go  on  in 
this  way !  "  And  at  the  sound  of  her  own  voice,  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  friend  ?" 

"  I  have  been  waiting  in  torture  for  two  hours  ;  but  no,  I 
do  not  want  to  quarrel  with  you.  If  you  had  not  come,  it 
would  have  been  because  you  could  not.  No,  I  will  not 
scold  you  any  more." 

She  put  her  two  hands  on  his  shoulders,  and  looked  at 
him  long,  with  her  eyes  deep  and  tender,  although  search- 
ing. She  looked  at  him  for  all  the  time  that  she  had  not 
seen  him,  comparing,  as  she  always  did,  the  impression  made 
by  the  present  moment,  with  the  memory  he  had  left  her, 
and  feeling,  as  she  always  did,  that  imagination  was  carried 
away  by  reality. 

III. 

"Din  you  meet  him  ?"  she  asked,  when  they  were  seated 
under  the  lamp  by  the  drawing-room  table.  "That  is  your 
punishment  for  coming  so  late." 


ANNA   KATttiNINA.  373 

"  How  is  that  so?  Oughtn't  he  to  have  gone  to  the  coun- 
cil?" 

"  He  went  there,  but  he  came  back  again  to  go,  I  know  not 
where.  But  that  is  no  matter  ;  let  us  talk  no  more  about  it ; 
tell  me  where  you  have  been  all  this  time  with  the  prince." 

She  knew  the  most  minute  details  of  his  life. 

He  wanted  to  reply  that  as  he  had  no  rest  the  night  before, 
he  allowed  himself  to  oversleep  ;  but  the  sight  of  her  happy, 
excited  face  made  this  acknowledgment  difficult,  and  he 
excused  himself  on  the  plea  of  having  been  obliged  to 
present  his  report  after  the  prince's  departure. 

"  It  is  over  now,  is  it  ?     Has  he  gone?  " 

"Yes,  thank  the  Lord!  You  have  no  idea  how  intoler- 
able this  week  has  seemed  to  me." 

"  Why  so?  Have  you  not  been  leading  the  life  customary 
to  }xm  young  people?"  she  said,  frowning,  and,  without 
looking  at  Vronsky,  taking  up  some  crocheting  that  was 
lying  on  the  table. 

"I  renounced  that  life  long  ago,"  he  replied,  trying  to 
discover  the  cause  of  the  sudden  change  iu  her  beautiful 
face.  "I  assure  you,"  he  added,  smiling,  and  showing  his 
white  teeth,  "that  it  was  overpoweringly  unpleasant  to  me 
to  look  at  that  old  life  again,  as  it  were,  in  a  mirror." 

She  did  not  reply,  but  gave  him  a  strange,  not  quite 
friendly,  look,  and  kept  her  crocheting  in  her  hand,  though 
she  did  not  work. 

"Liza  came  to  see  me  this  morning  —  they  came  to  my 
house  again,  in  spite  of  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovua  —  and 
told  me  about  your  Athenian  nights.  What  an  abomina- 
tion !  " 

"I  want  to  tell  you"  — 

"That  you  are  odious,  you  men!  How  can  you  suppose 
that  woman  forgets?"  said  she,  growing  more  and  more 
animated,  and  then  disclosing  the  cause  of  her  irritation,  — 
"  and  above  all  a  woman,  who,  like  myself,  can  know  noth- 
ing of  your  life  except  what  you  wish  to  tell  her?  And  can 
I  know  whether  it  is  the  truth?  " 

"Anna!  have  you  no  longer  any  faith  in  me?  Have  I 
ever  concealed  any  thing  from  you?  " 

"You  are  right ;  but  if  you  only  knew  how  I  suffer !  "  she 
said,  trying  to  drive  away  her  jealous  fears.  "  I  believe  in 
you,  I  do  believe  in  you  :  what  did  you  want  to  say  to  me?" 

He   couldn't   remember.      Anna's  fits   of   jealousy    were 


374  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

becoming  frequent,  and,  however  much  he  tried  to  conceal 
it,  these  scenes,  although  proofs  of  love,  made  him  grow 
cool  towards  her.  How  many  times  had  he  not  said  to  him- 
self that  happiness  existed  for  him  only  in  this  love ;  and 
now  that  he  felt  himself  loved  passionately,  as  is  onh'  possi- 
ble to  a  man  for  whom  a  woman  has  sacrificed  every  thing, 
happiness  seemed  farther  off  than  when  he  left  Moscow. 

"  AVell,  tell  me  what  you  have  to  sa}-  about  the  prince," 
replied  Anna.  "  I  have  driven  away  the  demon  "  (for  thus 
they  called  her  fits  of  jealousy  between  themselves):  "you 
began  to  tell  me  something.  In  what  way  was  his  stay  so 
disagreeable  ?" 

"  He  was  unbearable,"  replied  Vronsky,  trying  to  pick  up 
the  thread  of  his  thought  again.  "  The  prince  doesn't  improve 
on  close  acquaintance.  I  can  only  compare  him  to  one  of 
those  highly  fed  animals  which  take  prizes  at  exhibitions," 
he  added,  with  an  air  of  vexation,  which  seemed  to  interest 
Anna. 

"But  isn't  he  a  well-infonned  man,  who  has  travelled  a 
great  deal ? ' ' 

"One  would  say  that  he  was  well  informed  only  for  the 
sake  of  scorning  information,  as  he  scorns  every  thing  else, 
except  material  pleasures." 

"  But  are  you  not  also  fond  of  all  these  pleasures  your- 
self? "  said  Anna,  with  a  sad  look,  which  again  struck  him. 

"  Why  do  you  try  to  defend  him?  "  he  asked,  smiling. 

"I  am  not  trying  to  defend  him:  I  don't  care  enough 
about  him  for  that.  But  I  can't  help  thinking,  if  that  life 
was  so  distasteful  to  you,  you  might  have  dispensed  with 
going  to  admire  that  Therese  in  the  costume  of  Eve." 

"  There  is  the  demon  coming  back  again,"  said  Vronsky, 
drawing  one  of  Anna's  hands  towards  him  to  kiss. 

"  Yes  :  it  is  stronger  than  I.  You  can't  imagine  what  I 
suffered  while  I  was  waiting  for  }'ou.  I  do  not  think  I  am 
jealous  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart :  when  you  are  here,  I 
believe  in  you  ;  but  when  you  are  away,  leading  a  life  so 
incomprehensible  to  me  "  — 

She  drew  away  from  him,  and  began  to  work  nervousby, 
drawing  her  crochet-needle  thr4ugh  the  stitches  of  white 
wool,  which  gleamed  in  the  lamplight. 

"Tell  me  how  you  met  Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch,"  she 
asked  suddenly,  in  a  voice  still  constrained. 

"  We  almost  ran  against  each  other  at  the  door." 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  375 

"  And  did  he  greet  you  like  this?"  She  drew  down  her 
face,  half  closed  her  eyes,  and  changed  her  whole  expression 
to  such  an  extent,  that  Vronsky  could  not  help  recognizing 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch.  He  smiled,  and  Anna  began  to 
laugh,  with  that  fresh,  ringing  laugh,  which  was  one  of  her 
greatest  charms. 

"  I  do  not  understand  him,"  said  Vronsky.  "  I  should  have 
supposed  that  after  your  explanation  in  the  country,  he 
would  have  broken  off  with  3*011,  and  provoked  a  duel  with 
me ;  but  how  can  he  bear  the  actual  situation  ?  One  can  see 
that  he  suffers." 

14  He?"  said  she,  with  an  ironical  smile.  "Oh!  he  is 
very  happy." 

"  Why  should  we  all  torture  ourselves  in  this  way,  when 
every  thing  might  be  arranged?" 

"  That  doesn't  suit  him.  Oh,  how  well  I  know  his  nature, 
made  up  of  lies  !  Who,  unless  he  were  devoid  of  suscepti- 
bility, could  live  with  a  guilty  woman,  as  he  lives  with  me, 
speaking  to  her  in  the  affectionate  way  that  he  speaks  to 
me?  " 

And  she  imitated  the  way  her  husband  would  say,  "  You, 
ma  chdre  Anna." 

"  He  is  not  a  man,  I  tell  you  :  he  is  a  puppet.  If  I  were 
in  his  place,  I  would  long  ago  have  torn  in  pieces  a  woman 
like  myself,  instead  of  saying,  '  You,  ma  ch&re  Anna,'  to 
her :  but  he  is  not  a  man  ;  he  is  a  ministerial  machine.  He 
does  not  understand  that  he  is  no  longer  any  thing  to  me, 
that  he  is  in  the  way.  No,  no  ;  let  us  not  talk  about  him." 

"  You  are  unjust,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Vronsky,  trying 
to  calm  her;  "but  no,  let  us  not  talk  any  more  about  him  ; 
let  us  talk  about  yourself,  about  your  health  ;  what  does  the 
doctor  say  ?  ' ' 

She  looked  at  him  with  gay  raillery,  and  would  have  will- 
ingly continued  to  turn  her  husband  into  ridicule  ;  but  he 
added,  "You  wrote  me  that  you  were  suffering;  tell  me 
about  it." 

The  sarcastic  smile  disappeared  from  Anna's  lips,  and  gave 
place  to  an  expression  full  of  sadness. 

"  You  say  that  our  position  is  a  frightful  one.  and  that  it 
must  be  changed.  I  shall  not  weary  you  much  longer  with 
my  jealousy,  for  soon,  very  soon,  all  will  be  changed,  and 
not  in  the  way  we  think." 

She  grew  tender  as  she  spoke  of  herself ;  tears  prevented 


S76  ANNA  KAK£NINA. 

her  from  continuing ;  and  she  placed  her  white  hand,  whose 
rings  sparkled  in  the  lamplight,  on  Vronsky's  arm. 

"  What  do  3'ou  mean?  "   he  said. 

"  I  am  going  to  die  very  soon  ;  and  I  am  willing  to  die,  to 
relieve  you  both  of  my  burdensome  presence." 

Her  tears  continued  to  fall,  while  Vronsky  kissed  her 
hands,  and  tried  to  conceal  his  own  emotion  in  calming  hers. 

"It  is  better  that  it  should  be  so,"  she  said,  pressing  his 
hand  fervently. 

"But  what  a  foolish  idea!  "  said  Vronsky,  lifting  up  his 
head,  and  regaining  his  self-possession.  "What  utter  ab- 
surdity !  " 

"  No  :  I  am  telling  }-ou  the  truth." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  the  truth?  " 

"  That  I  am  going  to  die.     I  have  seen  it  in  a  dream." 

"  In  a  dream?"  and  Vronsky  involuntarily  recalled  the 
muzhik  (peasant)  of  his  nightmare. 

"Yes,  in  a  dream,"  she  continued,  "some  time  ago.  I 
dreamed  that  I  ran  into  ni}-  room  to  get  something  or  other : 
I  was  searching  about,  you  know,  as  one  does  in  dreams,  and 
I  noticed  something  standing  in  the  corner  of  my  room." 

' '  What  nonsense  !  How  do  you  suppose  ' '  —  But  she 
would  not  let  him  interrupt  her  :  what  she  was  telling  seemed 
too  important  to  her. 

"And  this  something  turned  around,  and  I  saw  a  little 
dirty  muzhik,  with  an  unkempt  beard.  I  wanted  to  run 
away,  but  he  bent  towards  a  bag,  in  which  he  moved  some 
object. ' ' 

She  made  the  motion  of  a  person  rummaging  in  a  bag ; 
terror  was  depicted  on  her  face  ;  and  Vronsky,  recalling  his 
own  dream,  felt  the  same  terror  seize  him. 

"  And  all  the  while  he  was  searching,  he  talked  fast,  very 
fast,  in  French,  lisping,  you  know,  '  11  faut  la  battre,  le  fer, 
le  broyer,  le  petrie.'  I  tried  to  wake  up,  but  I  only  woke  up 
in  my  dream,  asking  what  it  could  mean.  Then  I  heard 
some  one  say  to  me,  '  You  are  going  to  die,  you  are  going  to 
die,  mdtushka'  £  little  mother].  And  at  last  I  came  to  my- 
self." 

"What  an  absurd  dream!"  said  Vronsky,  ill  concealing 
his  own  emotion. 

"  Let  us  say  no  more  about  it.  Ring  :  I  am  going  to  give 
you  some  tea,  so  stay  a  little  longer ;  we  haven't  had  any 
for  a  long  time." 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  377 

She  suddenly  ceased  speaking.  Horror  and  fright  disap- 
peared from  her  face,  which  assumed  an  expression  of  atten- 
tive, serious  sweetness. 

IV. 

AFTER  meeting  Vronsky,  Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  went,  as 
he  had  planned,  to  the  Italian  opera.  He  heard  two  acts, 
spoke  with  all  to  whom  he  ought  to  speak,  and,  returning 
home,  went  straight  to  his  chamber,  after  having  assured 
himself  that  there  was  no  uniform  overcoat  in  the  vestibule. 

Contrary  to  his  usual  habit,  instead  of  going  to  bed  he 
walked  up  and  down  his  room  till  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. Anger  kept  him  awake,  for  he  couldn't  forgive  his 
wife  for  not  fulfilling  the  one  condition  that  he  had  imposed 
upon  her,  that  she  should  not  receive  her  lover  in  his  house. 
Since  she  had  paid  no  attention  to  this  order,  he  should  punish 
her,  carry  out  his  threat,  demand  a  divorce,  and  take  away 
his  son  from  her.  This  threat  was  not  easy  to  execute,  but 
he  wanted  to  keep  his  word.  The  Countess  Lidia  had  often 
said  that  this  was  the  easiest  way  out  of  his  deplorable  situ- 
ation ;  and  at  the  present  time  the  practice  of  divorce  had 
become  so  frequent,  and  was  obtained  so  easily,  that  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  saw  in  it  a  means  of  escaping  its  formal 
difficulties. 

Misfortunes  never  come  single  ;  and  the  trouble  arising 
from  the  organization  of  the  foreign  population,  and  the 
floods  in  the  government  of  Zarai,  so  worried  him,  that  for 
some  time  he  had  been  in  a  perpetual  state  of  irritation.  He 
passed  the  night  without  sleeping,  his  anger  increasing  all 
the  while ;  and  at  last,  from  sheer  exasperation,  he  left  his 
bed,  dressed  hastily,  and  went  to  Anna  as  soon  as  he  knew 
she  was  up.  He  was  afraid  of  losing  the  energy  which  he 
needed ;  and  it  was,  to  a  certain  extent,  as  though  he  carried 
his  cup  of  grief  in  both  hands,  lest  it  should  overflow  on  the 
way. 

Anna  believed  that  she  thoroughly  knew  her  husband  ;  but 
she  was  amazed  to  see  him  come  in  with  gloom}-  face,  his 
eyes  sadly  fixed  before  him,  without  looking  at  her,  and  his 
lips  compressed  with  scorn.  Never  had  she  seen  so  much 
decision  in  his  bearing.  He  entered  without  wishing  her 
good-morning,  and  went  directly  to  the  writing-desk,  and 
opened  the  drawer. 


378  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  find?  "  cried  Anna. 

"  Your  lover's  letters." 

"  They  are  not  there,"  she  said,  closing  the  drawer.  But 
he  knew  by  her  action  that  he  had  guessed  aright,  and, 
roughly  pushing  away  her  hand,  he  took  possession  of  the 
portfolio  where  Anna  kept  her  important  papers.  In  spite 
of  her  efforts  to  regain  it,  he  held  it  at  a  distance. 

"  Sit  down :  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  said  he,  and  placed 
the  portfolio  under  his  arm,  holding  it  so  firmly  with  his 
elbow  that  his  shoulder  was  raised  by  it. 

Anna  looked  at  him,  astonished  and  frightened. 

"  Have  I  not  forbidden  you  to  receive  your  lover  in  this 
house?  " 

"  I  needed  to  see  him  to  "  — 

She  stopped,  unable  to  find  a  plausible  explanation. 

"  I  will  not  enter  into  details,  and  have  no  desire  to  know 
why  a  woman  needs  to  see  her  lover." 

"  I  only  wished,"  she  said,  blushing,  and  feeling  that  her 
husband's  rudeness  made  her  bold — "is  it  possible  that 
are  not  aware  how  easy  it  is  for  you  to  wound  me?  " 

u  One  can  only  wound  an  honest  man  or  an  honest  woman  ; 
but  to  tell  a  thief  that  he  is  a  thief,  is  only  the  statement  of 
a  fact." 

"That  is  a  degree  of  cruelty  that  I  never  recognized  in 

you." 

"  Ah  !  you  find  a  husband  cruel  because  he  gives  his  wife 
perfect  freedom,  on  the  sole  condition  that  she  respect  the 
laws  of  propriety?  You  call  that  cruelty,  do  you?  " 

"It  is  worse  than  that :  it  is  cowardice,  if  you  insist  on 
knowing,"  cried  Anna  passionately,  and  she  rose  to  go. 

"  No,"  cried  he,  in  a  piercing  voice,  forcing  her  to  sit 
down  again,  and  taking  her  by  the  arm.  His  great,  bony 
fingers  seized  her  so  roughly,  that  one  of  Anna's  bracelets 
left  a  red  print  on  her  flesh.  "Cowardice,  indeed!  That 
applies  to  her  who  abandons  her  son  and  husband  for  a 
lover,  and  nevertheless  eats  her  husband's  bread." 

Anna  bowed  her  head ;  the  justice  of  these  words  over- 
whelmed her  ;  she  no  longer  dared  to  accuse  her  husband,  as 
she  had  done  the  night  before,  of  being  de  trap,  and  she 
replied  gently,  — 

"  You  cannot  judge  my  position  more  severely  than  I  do 
myself  ;  but  why  do  you  tell  me  that?  " 

"  Why  do  I  tell  you  that?"  continued  he  angrily;  "so 


ANNA  KAEfiNINA.  379 

that  you  may  know,  that,  since  you  pay  no  attention  to  my 
wishes,  I  shall  take  the  necessary  measures  to  put  an  end  to 
this  state  of  affairs." 

"  Soon,  very  soon,  it  will  terminate  itself,"  said  Anna,  her 
eyes  full  of  tears  at  the  thought  of  that  death  which  she  felt 
near  at  hand,  and  now  so  desirable. 

"  Sooner  even  than  you  and  your  lover  have  dreamed  of! 
You  only  think  of  yourself :  the  suffering  of  one  who  has 
been  your  husband  is  of  little  interest  to  you  ;  what  does  it 
matter  that  his  life  has  been  turned  upside  down,  that  he 
suffers" —  In  his  emotion,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  spoke 
so  rapidly  that  he  stammered  ;  and  this  stammering  seemed 
ridiculous  to  Anna,  who  nevertheless  immediately  reproached 
herself  because  she  could  be  sensible  to  the  ridiculous  at 
such  a  moment.  For  the  first  time,  and  for  a  moment,  she 
understood  her  husband's  suffering,  and  pitied  him.  But 
what  could  she  do,  except  be  silent  and  bow  her  head?  He 
also  was  silent,  then  begun  again,  in  a  severe  voice,  empha- 
sizing words  of  no  special  importance  :  — 

' '  I  came  to  tell  you  ' '  — 

She  glanced  at  him,  and,  recalling  his  stammering,  said  to 
herself,  "•  No,  this  man,  with  his  dull  eyes,  so  full  of  him- 
self, cannot  feel  any  thing.  I  have  been  the  toy  of  my  im- 
agination." 

"  I  cannot  change,"  she  murmured. 

"I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  I  am  going  to  leave  for 
Moscow,  and  that  I  shall  not  enter  this  house  again.  You 
will  learn  of  my  determination  from  the  lawyer,  who  will 
have  charge  of  the  preliminaries  of  the  divorce.  My  son 
will  go  to  one  of  my  relatives,"  he  added,  recalling  with 
difficulty  what  he  wanted  to  say  about  the  child. 

"  You  are  going  to  take  Serozha  away,  to  cause  me  pain," 
she  stammered,  raising  her  eyes  to  his:  "you  do  not  love 
him  ;  leave  him  with  me." 

"•  You  are  right:  the  repulsion  that  you  have  inspired  in 
me  reflects  on  my  son ;  but  I  shall  keep  him,  nevertheless. 
Good-morning." 

He  was  about  to  go,  but  she  detained  him. 

"  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch,  leave  Serozha  with  me,"  she 
said  again  ;  "  that  is  all  I  ask  of  you  ;  leave  him  with  me 
for  the  present." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  pushed  away  the  arm  that  held 
him  back,  and  left  her  without  replying. 


380  ANNA   EAR&NINA. 


V. 

THE  reception-room  of  the  celebrated  lawyer,  where  Alek- 
sei  Aleksandrovitch  now  betook  himself,  was  full  of  people 
when  he  entered.  Three  ladies,  one  old,  another  young,  and 
the  third  evidently  belonging  to  the  class  of  merchants,  were 
waiting  there,  as  well  as  a  German  banker  wearing  a  very 
large  ring  on  his  hand,  a  merchant  with  a  long  beard,  and  a 
tchinovnik  dressed  in  uniform  with  a  decoration  around  his 
neck :  they  had  all,  apparently,  been  waiting  a  long  time. 

Two  secretaries  were  writing  with  scratching  pens  :  one  of 
them  turned  his  head,  with  an  air  of  annoyance,  towards  the 
new-comer,  and,  without  rising,  asked  him,  with  half-closed 
eyes,  — 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"  I  have  business  with  the  lawyer." 

"He  is  busy,"  replied  the  secretary  severely,  pointing 
with  his  pen  towards  those  who  were  already  waiting ;  and 
he  went  back  to  his  writing. 

"  Will  he  not  find  a  moment  to  receive  me?  "  asked  Alek- 
s6i  Aleksandrovitch. 

"  He  is  not  at  liberty  a  single  moment ;  he  is  always  busy  : 
have  the  goodness  to  wait." 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  give  him  my  card,"  said  Aleks£i  Alek- 
sandrovitch, with  dignity,  seeing  that  it  was  impossible  to 
preserve  his  incognito. 

The  secretary  took  his  card,  examined  it  with  an  air  of 
displeasure,  and  went  out. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  on  principle,  approved  of  judi- 
ciary reform,  but  criticised  certain  details,  as  much  as  he  was 
capable  of  criticising  an  institution  sanctioned  by  the  supreme 
power.  He  admitted  that  there  was  error  in  all  things,  as  an 
inevitable  evil,  which  could  be  remedied  in  certain  cases  ;  but 
the  important  position  given  to  lawyers  by  this  reform  had 
always  been  the  object  of  his  disapproval,  and  this  reception 
that  he  had  met  with  did  not  destroy  his  prejudices. 

"  The  lawj'er  will  see  you,"  said  the  secretary,  as  he  came 
back. 

Accordingly,  in  about  two  minutes  the  door  opened,  and 
the  lawyer  appeared,  bringing  with  him  a  thin-looking  justice 
of  the  peace. 

The  lawyer  was  a  short,  thick-set  man,  with  a  bald  head, 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  381 

a  reddish-black  beard,  a  prominent  forehead,  and  large, 
shiny  eyebrows.  His  dress,  from  his  necktie  and  double 
watch-chain  down  to  his  polished  boots,  was  that  of  a  dandy. 
His  face  was  intelligent,  but  vulgar ;  his  manner  pretentious 
and  in  bad  taste. 

"Be  so  good  as  to  walk  in,"  said  he,  turning  to  Alekse"! 
Aleksandrovitch ;  and  ushering  him  into  the  next  room,  he 
closed  the  door. 

He  pushed  out  an  arm-chair  near  his  desk  covered  with 
papers,  begged  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  to  be  seated,  and 
rubbing  his  short,  hairy  hands  together,  he  settled  himself 
in  front  of  the  desk,  with  an  air  of  attention.  But  he  was 
hardby  seated  when  a  moth-miller  flew  on  the  table,  and 
the  little  man,  with  unexpected  liveliness,  caught  it  on  the 
wing :  then  he  resumed  quickly  his  former  attitude. 

'•  Before  beginning  to  explain  my  business,"  said  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch,  following  the  movements  of  the  lawyer  with 
astonishment,  '•  allow  me  to  ask  you  to  let  the  subject  which 
brings  me  here  rest  between  ourselves." 

An  imperceptible  smile  slightly  moved  the  lawyer's  lips. 

"  If  I  were  not  capable  of  keeping  a  secret  I  should  not 
be  a  lawyer,"  said  he  ;  "  but  if  you  wish  to  be  assured  "  — 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  glanced  at  him,  and  noticed  that 
his  gray  eyes,  full  of  intelligence,  had  guessed  all. 

"  Do  3-ou  know  my  name?  " 

"  I  know  you,"  and  again  he  caught  a  miller,  "  and  how 
valuable  your  services  are  ;  and  so  does  all  Russia,"  replied 
the  lawyer,  bowing. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  sighed  ;  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
he  brought  himself  to  speak  ;  but  when  he  had  once  begun, 
he  continued,  unhesitatingly,  in  a  clear,  sharp  voice,  empha- 
sizing certain  words. 

''  I  have  the  misfortune  to  be  a  deceived  husband.  I  wish 
to  obtain  legal  separation  from  my  wife,  —  that  is,  a  divorce, 
—  and,  above  all,  to  separate  my  son  from  his  mother." 

The  lawyer's  gray  eyes  did  their  best  to  remain  serious, 
but  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  could  not  help  seeing  that  they 
were  full  of  an  amusement  which  was  not  caused  solely  by 
the  prospect  of  a  good  suit :  they  shone  with  enthusiasm, 
with  triumph,  —  something  like  the  brilliancy  he  had  noticed 
in  his  wife's  eyes. 

tk  You  wish  my  assistance  to  obtain  the  divorce?  " 

"  Exactly;  but  I  run  the  risk  of  wasting  your  time,  be- 


382  ANNA   KAIitiNINA. 

cause  I  have  only  come  to  ask  preliminary  advice.  I  wish  to 
remain  within  certain  limits,  and  I  shall  give  up  the  divorce 
unless  it  is  consonant  with  the  forms  I  wish  to  keep." 

"  Oh  !  you  will  alwa3"s  remain  perfectly  free,"  replied  the 
lawyer. 

The  little  man,  that  he  might  not  offend  his  client  by  the 
delight  which  his  face  ill-concealed,  fixed  his  eyes  on  Aleks6i 
Aleksandrovitch's  feet,  and,  although  out  of  the  corner  of 
one  eye  he  saw  another  moth-miller  flying  about,  he  restrained 
himself,  out  of  respect  to  the  situation. 

"The  general  features  of  the  laws  of  divorce  are  well 
known  to  me,"  said  Kar£uin,  "  but  I  should  like  to  know  the 
different  forms  customary  in  the  practice." 

"  In  short,  you  wish  to  learn  on  what  grounds  you  can 
obtain  a  legal  divorce?"  said  the  lawyer,  divining,  with  a 
certain  pleasure,  his  client's  meaning ;  and,  at  an  affirmative 
gesture  from  the  latter,  he  continued,  casting  a  furtive  glance 
now  and  then  at  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's  face,  which 
burned  with  emotion. 

"Divorce,  according  to  our  laws,"  —  he  had  a  shade  of 
disdain  for  our  laws,  —  "is  possible,  as  you  know,  in  the 
three  following  cases  —  Let  them  wait !  "  he  cried,  seeing 
his  secretary  open  the  door.  However,  he  rose,  went  to  say 
a  few  words  to  him,  came  back,  and  sat  down  again :  —  "in. 
the  three  following  cases :  physical  defect  of  one  of  the  par- 
ties, disappearance  of  one  of  them  for  five  years," — in 
making  this  enumeration  he  bent  down  his  large,  hairy  fin- 
gers, one  after  another,  —  "and  finally  the  Scriptural  rea- 
son." He  said  this  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction.  "  There  you 
have  the  theoretical  side  ;  but  I  think,  that,  in  doing  me  the 
honor  to  consult  me,  you  desire  to  know  the  practical  side,  do 
you  not?  So  it  being  neither  a  case  of  physical  defect,  nor 
absence  of  one  of  the  parties,  as  far  as  I  understand?  "  — 

Aleksei  Alexandrovitch  assented,  with  an  inclination  of 
the  head. 

"  The  reason  last  named  remains,  in  which  case  one  of 
the  parties  must  plead  guilty." 

The  lawyer  silently  looked  at  his  client,  with  the  air  of  a 
gunsmith  who  explains  to  a  purchaser  the  use  of  two  pis- 
tols of  different  caliber,  leaving  him  free  to  choose  between 
them.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  remaining  silent,  he  con- 
tinued, — 

"The  simplest,  the  most  reasonable  way,  in  my  opinion, 


ANNA  KARtiNlNA. 

is  to  recognize  the  guilt  by  mutual  consent.  I  should  not 
dare  to  say  this  to  everybody,  but  I  suppose  that  we  under- 
stand each  other." 

Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch  was  so  troubled,  that  the  advan- 
tage of  the  last  proposition  which  the  lawyer  made  entirely 
escaped  him,  and  surprise  was  painted  on  his  face :  the  man 
of  law  came  at  once  to  his  aid. 

"  Suppose  that  a  man  and  wife  can  no  longer  live  together  : 
if  both  consent  to  a  divorce,  the  details  and  formalities 
amount  to  nothing.  This  is  the  simplest  and  surest  way." 

Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch  understood  now,  but  his  religious 
sentiments  were  opposed  to  this  measure. 

"  In  the  present  case,  this  means  is  out  of  the  question," 
said  he.  "Could  not  proofs,  like  a  correspondence,  estab- 
lish the  crime  indirectly  ?  These  proofs  are  in  my  posses- 
sion." 

The  lawyer,  pressing  his  lips  together,  uttered  an  excla- 
mation both  of  pity  arid  disdain. 

"  I  beg  you  not  to  forget  that  affairs  of  this  sort  are  in 
the  province  of  the  upper  clergy,"  he  said.  "Our  arch- 
bishops love  to  plunge  into  certain  details,"  he  added,  with 
a  sigh  of  sympathy  for  the  taste  of  these  worthy  fathers, 
"  and  proofs  demand  witnesses.  If  you  do  me  the  honor  to 
trust  your  case  to  me,  you  must  give  me  the  choice  of  meas- 
ures to  be  pursued.  Where  there  is  a  will,  there  is  a  way." 

Alekse'i  Aleksaudrovitch  arose,  looking  very  pale,  while 
the  lawyer  again  ran  to  the  door,  to  reply  to  a  fresh  inter- 
ruption from  his  secretary. 

"  Tell  her,  then,  that  this  is  not  a  cheap  shop,"  he  called 
out,  before  taking  his  seat  again  ;  and  he  caught  another 
moth  on  the  way,  muttering  sorrowfully,  "My  reps  will 
surely  be  ruined  by  them." 

"  You  did  me  the  honor  to  say  "  — 

"  I  will  write  you  my  decision,"  replied  Aleks£i  Aleksan- 
drovitch, leaning  against  the  table;  "and  since  I  conclude 
from  your  words  that  a  divorce  is  possible,  I  will  be  obliged 
to  you  if  you  will  make  your  conditions  known  to  me." 

"  Every  thing  is  possible  if  you  will  give  me  entire  free- 
dom of  action,"  said  the  lawyer,  eluding  the  last  question. 
"  When  may  I  expect  a  communication  from  you?"  asked 
he,  following  his  client  with  eyes  as  shiny  as  his  boots. 

"  In  eight  days.  You  will  then  have  the  goodness  to  let 
me  know  whether  you  accept  the  case,  and  on  what  terms?" 


384  ANNA  KAEtiNINA, 

"  Certainly." 

The  lawyer  bowed  respectfully,  conducted  his  client  to  the 
door,  and,  left  alone,  his  joy  knew  no  bounds :  he  was  so 
happy,  that,  contrary  to  his  principles,  he  made  a  deduction 
to  a  lady  skilled  in  the  art  of  making  a  bargain.  He  even 
forgot  the  moths,  resolving  to  recover  his  furniture  the  next 
winter  with  velvet,  such  as  his  rival,  Sigonin,  had. 


VI. 

THE  brilliant  victory  won  by  Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch  in 
the  assembly  of  the  1 7th  of  August  had  unfavorable  results. 
The  new  commission,  appointed  to  study  the  situation  of 
the  foreign  population,  had  acted  with  a  promptness  sur- 
prising to  Kare'nin :  at  the  end  of  three  months  it  pre- 
sented its  report.  The  condition  of  this  population  had 
been  studied  from  political,  administrative,  economical,  eth- 
nographical, material,  and  religious  points  of  view.  Each 
question  was  followed  by  an  admirably  concise  reply,  leaving 
no  room  to  doubt  that  these  answers  were  the  work,  not  of 
a  human  mind,  always  liable  to  mistake,  but  of  an  experi- 
enced bureaucracy.  These  answers  were  based  on  official 
data,  such  as  the  reports  of  governors  and  archbishops, 
based  again  on  the  reports  of  heads  of  districts  and  ecclesi- 
astical superintendents,  in  their  turn  based  upon  the  reports 
from  communal  administrations  and  country  parishes.  How 
could  their  correctness  be  doubted?  Questions  such  as 
these,  "Why  are  the  harvests  poor?"  and,  "Why  do  the 
inhabitants  of  certain  localities  persist  in  their  beliefs?  "  — 
questions  which  the  official  machine  alone  could  solve,  and 
to  which  ages  would  not  have  found  a  reply,  —  were  clearly 
solved,  in  conformity  with  the  opinions  of  Aleks6i  Aleksan- 
drovitch. 

But  Stremof,  stung  to  the  quick,  had  thought  of  a  course 
unexpected  by  his  adversary.  Enlisting  several  members  of 
the  committee  in  his  cause,  he  suddenly  went  over  to  Kare"- 
nin's  side ;  and,  not  satisfied  with  warmly  supporting  the 
measures  proposed  by  the  latter,  he  proposed  others,  of  the 
same  nature,  which  far  outstripped  Aleks^i  Aleksandro- 
vitch's  intentions.  Carried  to  extremes,  these  measures 
seemed  so  ridiculous,  that  the  government,  public  opinion, 
ladies  of  influence,  and  the  daily  papers,  were  all  indignant ; 


ANNA   KAEtiNINA.  385 

and  their  dissatisfaction  reflected  on  the  originator  of  the 
commission,  Kareniu  himself. 

Delighted  with  the  success  of  his  scheme,  Stremof  put  on 
an  Innocent  air,  affected  astonishment  at  the  results  ob- 
tained, and  alleged  that  his  colleague's  plan  had  inspired 
him  with  over-confidence.  Although  ill,  and  much  affected 
by  all  these  troubles,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  did  not  give 
up.  The  committee  was  split  into  two  factious :  some  of 
them,  with  Stremof,  explained  their  mistake  through  over- 
con  fideuce,  and  declared  the  reports  of  the  committee  of 
inspection  to  be  absurd ;  others,  with  Kare"nin,  fearing 
this  revolutionary  method  of  treating  a  commission,  upheld 
it. 

Official  circles,  and  even  society,  saw  this  interesting  ques- 
tion become  so  confused,  that  the  misery  and  the  prosperity 
of  the  foreign  population  were  equall}'  problematical.  Kar£- 
nin's  position,  already  threatened  by  the  bad  effect  caused 
by  his  domestic  misfortunes,  seemed  precarious.  He  then 
had  the  courage  to  make  a  difficult  resolution :  to  the  great 
astonishment  of  the  commission,  he  announced  that  he  de- 
manded the  right  to  go  and  study  these  questions  himself 
on  the  spot ;  and,  permission  having  been  granted  him,  he 
set  out  for  a  distant  province. 

His  departure  made  a  great  sensation,  especially  as  he  offi- 
cially refused  the  travelling-expenses  necessary  for  twelve 
post-horses. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  went  by  way  of  Moscow,  and 
stopped  there  three  days. 

The  next  day  after  his  arrival,  as  he  was  going  to  visit  the 
governor-general,  he  heard  his  name  called  at  the  crossing 
of  the  Gazetnaia  Street,  where  carriages  of  every  description 
are  always  thronging  ;  and  turning  at  the  sound  of  a  gay, 
sonorous  voice,  he  saw  Stepan  Arkady evitch  on  the  side- 
walk. Dressed  in  an  overcoat  of  the  latest  fashion,  his  great 
stylish  hat  on  one  side,  his  face  glowing  with  3'outh  and  good 
health,  he  called  with  such  persistency  that  Kar£nin  was 
obliged  to  stop.  In  the  carriage,  on  the  door  of  which  Ste- 
pan Arkadyevitch  was  leaning,  was  a  woman  in  a  velvet  hat, 
with  two  children  :  she  gesticulated  to  him,  smiling  amicably. 
It  was  Dolly  and  her  children. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  had  not  counted  on  seeing  in 
Moscow  anybody  whom  he  knew,  and  least  of  all  his  wife's 
brother;  so  he  would  have  gone  on  his  way,  after  bowing :, 


386  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

but  Oblonsky  motioned  to  the  coachman  to  stop,  and  ran 
through  the  snow  to  the  carriage. 

"How  long  have  you  been  here?  What  a  shame  not  to 
let  us  know  you  were  coming !  I  saw  the  name  of  Kareuin 
on  the  list  of  arrivals  at  Dusseaux's  last  evening,  but  it 
never  occurred  to  me  that  it  was  you,"  said  he,  passing  his 
head  through  the  door,  and  striking  his  feet  together  to 
shake  off  the  snow.  "  How  is  it  that  you  didn't  send  us 
word?" 

"  I  hadn't  time.  I  am  ver}T  busy,"  replied  Alekse"i  Alek- 
•  sandrovitch  briefly. 

"  Come  and  speak  to  my  wife  :  she  wants  to  see  you  very 
much." 

Kare"nin  threw  off  the  robe  which  covered  his  chilly  limbs, 
and,  leaving  his  carriage,  made  a  way  through  the  snow  to 
Dolly's. 

"  Why,  what  has  happened,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  that 
you  avoid  us  in  this  way?  "  said  she,  smiling. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  replied  Kar^nin,  in  a  tone 
which  clearly  proved  the  contrary.  "  I  hope  you  are  well." 

"  How  is  my  dear  Anna?  " 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  muttered  a  few  words,  and  was 
about  to  leave  her,  but  Stepau  Arkadyevitch  detained  him. 

"Do  j'ou  know  what  we  are  going  to  do?  Dolly,  invite 
him  to  dine  to-morrow  with  Koznuishef  and  Pestsof ,  the  rep- 
resentative intellects  of  Moscow." 

"Oh,  do  come!"  said  Dolly:  "we  will  name  any  hour 
that  is  convenient  —  five  or  six,  as  you  please.  Nu!  What 
is  my  dear  Anna  doing?  It  is  so  long  " — 

"She  is  well,"  muttered  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  again, 
frowning.  "  Very  happy  to  have  met  you." 

And  he  went  back  to  his  carriage.  "  You  will  come?" 
cried  Dolly  again.  Kare"nin  said  something  in  reply  which 
did  not  reach  her  ears. 

"I  am  coming  to  see  you  to-morrow!"  cried  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  at  the  same  time. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  shut  himself  up  in  his  carriage, 
as  though  he  would  like  to  vanish  out  of  sight. 

"What  a  strange  fellow!"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to 
Dolly  ;  and  looking  at  his  watch  he  made  an  affectionate  sign 
of  farewell  to  his  wife  and  children,  and  started  off  at  a  brisk 
pace. 

"  Stiva,  Stiva!  "  cried  Dolly,  blushing.     He  came  back. 


ANNA  KABtiNINA.  387 

"What  shall  I  do  about  the  money  for  the  children's 
cloaks  ? ' ' 

"Tell  them  that  I  will  settle  the  bill."  And  he  disap- 
peared, gayly  bowing  to  some  acquaintances  as  he  went. 


VII. 

THE  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  went 
to  the  Bolsho'i  [Great]  theatre,  to  attend  the  rehearsal  of  the 
ballet ;  and  taking  advantage  of  the  dim  light  of  the  green- 
room, he  gave  the  coral  necklace  to  the  pretty  dancing-girl 
who  was  making  her  debut  under  his  protection,  as  he  had 
promised  the  day  before.  From  the  theatre  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch went  to  the  market  to  select  himself  some  fish  and  as- 
paragus for  the  dinner ;  and  at  noon  he  went  to  Dusseaux's, 
where  three  travellers,  friends  of  his,  by  happy  chance,  were 
stopping,  —  Levin,  just  returned  from  his  journey  abroad; 
his  new  natchalnik  [chief],  who  had  just  been  appointed, 
and  had  come  to  Moscow  to  look  into  affairs ;  and  lastly, 
his  brother-in-law,  Kar^nin. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  fond  of  a  good  dinner,  but  what 
he  liked  better  still  was  a  choice  little  dinner-party  with  a 
few  select  friends  at  his  own  house.  The  menu  that  he  made 
out  for  this  day  pleased  him,  —  fresh  perch,  with  asparagus, 
and  a  simple  but  superb  roast  of  beef,  as  piece  de  resistance, 
and  the  right  kinds  of  wine.  Among  the  guests  he  expected 
Kitty  and  Levin,  and,  to  offset  them,  a  cousin  and  the  young 
Shcherbatsky :  the  lions  of  the  occasion  were  to  be  Sergei 
Koznuishef,  a  Muscovite  and  philosopher;  and  Kar£nin,  a 
Petersburger  and  a  man  of  affairs.  As  a  sort  of  connecting 
link,  he  had  invited  Pestsof,  a  charming  man  of  fifty  years, 
an  enthusiast,  a  musician,  a  ready  talker,  a  historian  and  a 
liberal,  who  always  put  everybody  in  good  spirits. 

Fortune  smiled  on  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  at  this  time :  the 
money  from  the  sale  of  the  wood  was  not  all  gone  ;  Dolly 
for  some  time  had  been  lovely  and  charming ;  every  thing 
would  have  been  at  its  best,  if  two  things  had  not  impressed 
him  disagreeably,  without,  however,  disturbing  his  good 
humor :  in  the  first  place,  his  brother-in-law's  cool  welcome  ; 
uniting  the  fact  of  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch's  coolness  with 
certain  rumors  that  had  reached  his  ears  about  his  sister's 
relations  with  Vrousky,  he  suspected  serious  trouble  between 


388  ANNA   KAEtiNlNA. 

the  husband  and  wife.  The  second  shadow  was  the  arrival 
of  the  new  nukhalnik,  who,  like  all  new  chiefs,  had  the  repu- 
tation of  being  terribly  exacting.  An  untiring  worker,  he 
passed  for  a  veritable  bear,  and  was  absolutely  opposed  to 
his  predecessor's  liberal  tendencies,  which  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  had  shared.  His  first  presentation  had  taken  place  the 
day  before,  in  uniform  ;  and  Oblonsky  had  been  so  cordially 
received,  that  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  pay  him  an  unofficial 
visit.  The  thought  that  the  new  natchalnik  might  not  receive 
him  cordially  was  the  second  disturbing  element,  but  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  felt  instinctively  that  all  would  be  arranged 
to  perfection.  "All  people,  all  men,"  thought  he,  "are 
transgressors  as  well  as  we.  Why  get  angry  and  quarrel?  " 

"Well,  Vasili,"  said  he,  as  he  went  through  the  corridor, 
and  met  a  lackey  of  his  acquaintance,  "  have  you  sacrificed 
your  whiskers?     Levin  ?  in  number  seven  ?     Thanks!     Do, 
you  know,  is  Count  Anitchkin  at  home?"     This  was  the 
new  natchalnik. 

"At  your  service,"  said  Vasili  with  a  smile.  "  We  have 
not  seen  you  for  a  long  time." 

"I  was  here  yesterday,  but  came  up  another  stairway." 

When  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  entered,  Levin  was  standing 
with  a  peasant  in  the  middle  of  his  room,  measuring  a  bear- 
skin. 

"Ah!  did  you  kill  him?"  cried  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 
"Splendid  skin!  A  bear!  Good-morning,  Arkhip."  He 
held  out  his  hand  to  the  peasant,  and  then  sat  down  in  his 
overcoat  and  hat. 

"  Take  off  your  coat,  and  stay  a  while,"  said  Levin. 

"  I  haven't  time.  I  only  came  in  for  a  little  second," 
replied  Oblonsky,  which  did  not  prevent  him  from  unbutton- 
ing his  overcoat,  then  taking  it  off,  and  staying  a  whole  hour 
to  talk  with  Levin  about  the  hunt  and  other  subjects. 

"  Nu!  Tell  me  what  you  did  while  you  were  gone  :  where 
have  you  been?  "  he  asked  after  the  peasant  had  gone. 

"  I  went  to  Germany,  to  France,  and  England,  but  only 
to  the  manufacturing  centres,  and  not  to  the  capitals.  I  saw 
a  great  deal  that  was  new." 

"  Yes,  yes.  I  know  your  ideas  of  workingmen's  associa- 
tions." 

"  Oh,  no !  the  question  of  the  workingman  doesn't  concern 
us :  the  only  important  question  for  Russia  is  the  relation  of 
the  workman  to  the  soil ;  the  question  exists  there,  but  it  is 
impossible  to  remedy  it  there,  while  here  "  — 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  389 

Oblonsky  listened  attentively. 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  is  possible  that  you  are  right,  but  I  am  glad 
that  you  are  in  better  spirits  :  you  hunt  the  bear,  you  work, 
you  are  enthusiastic.  Shcherbatsky  told  me  that  he  had 
found  3'ou  blue  and  melancholy,  talking  of  nothing  but 
death." 

"What  of  that?  I  am  continually  thinking  of  death," 
replied  Levin.  "  It's  true  that  there  is  a  time  to  die,  and 
that  all  is  vanity.  I  love  to  work  ;  but  think  of  this  world  — 
just  take  notice  !  — this  world  of  ours,  a  little  mould  making 
the  smallest  of  the  planets  !  and  we  imagine  that  our  ideas, 
our  works,  are  something  grand.  It's  all  grains  of  dust !  "  — 

"  All  that  is  as  old  as  the  hills,  brother !  " 

"It  is  old  ;  but  when  this  idea  becomes  clear  to  us,  how 
miserable  life  seerns  !  When  we  know  that  death  will  surely 
come,  and  that  there  will  be  nothing  left  of  us,  the  most  im- 
portant things  seem  as  insignificant  as  the  turning  over  of 
this  bear-skin.  It  is  to  keep  away  thoughts  of  death,  that 
we  hunt  and  work,  and  try  to  divert  ourselves." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  smiled,  and  gave  Levin  one  of  his 
affectionate  looks. 

"  Nu!  Do  you  know  that  you  pounce  upon  me  because  I 
seek  pleasure  in  life?  Be  not  so  severe,  O  moralist !  " 

"  What  good  there  is  in  life"  — replied  Levin,  becoming 
confused.  "Da!  I  don't  know.  I  only  know  that  we 
must  soon  die." 

"Why  soon?" 

"  And  you  know,  there  is  less  charm  in  life  when  we  think 
of  death,  but  more  restfulness." 

"  We  must  enjoy  what  there  is  of  it,  any  way.  —  But," 
said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  rising  for  the  tenth  time,  "  I 
must  go." 

"  Da!  Stay  a  little  longer,"  said  Levin,  holding  him  back  : 
"  when  shall  we  see  each  other  again?  I  leave  to-morrow." 

"I  am  a  queer  fellow.  I  came  to  —  I  had  entirely  forgot- 
ten what  I  came  for !  I  insist  on  your  coming  to  dine  with 
us  to-day.  Your  brother  will  be  with  us  :  my  brother-in-law, 
Kar£nin,  will  be  there." 

"  Is  he  here?  "  asked  Levin,  who  was  dying  to  hear  news 
of  Kitty :  he  knew  that  she  had  been  in  Petersburg  at  the 
beginning  of  the  winter,  visiting  her  sister,  the  wife  of  a 
diplomatist. 

k%  Whether  she  has  come  back  or  not,  it's  all  the  same.  I 
will  accept,"  he  thought. 


390  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

"  Will  you  come  ?  " 

"  Nu!    Of  course  I  will." 

"  At  five  o'clock  in  frock-coat." 

And  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  rose,  and  went  down  to  see  the 
new  natchalnik.  Instinct  had  not  deceived  him  :  this  dread- 
ful man  proved  to  be  a  good  fellow  ;  he  lunched  with  him, 
and  stayed  so  long  to  talk,  that  it  was  nearly  four  o'clock 
when  he  reached  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's. 


VIII. 

AFTER  he  returned  from  mass,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 
spent  the  morning  in  his  room.  He  had  two  things  to  ac- 
complish on  this  day  :  first,  to  receive  a  deputation  of  foreign- 
ers ;  and  then  to  write  to  his  lawyer,  as  he  had  promised. 

He  had  a  long  discussion  with  the  members  of  the  depu- 
tation, heard  their  complaints  and  their  needs,  made  out  a 
programme,  from  which  they  were  not  to  deviate  on  any  ac- 
count in  their  dealings  with  the  government,  and  finally  gave 
them  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna, 
who  would  be  his  principal  auxiliary  in  this  matter:  the 
countess  has  a  specialty  for  deputations,  and  knew  better 
than  anybody  else  how  to  manage  them.  When  he  had  dis- 
missed these  people,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  wrote  to  his 
lawyer,  giving  him  full  power  to  do  as  he  thought  best,  and 
sent  three  notes  of  Vronsky's,  and  one  from  Anna,  which  he 
had  found  in  the  portfolio. 

Just  as  he  was  sealing  his  letter,  he  heard  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch's  clear  voice  asking  the  servant  if  bis  brother-in-law 
were  at  home,  and  insisting  upon  being  announced. 

"  So  much  the  worse,"  thought  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch, 
"  or  rather,  so  much  the  better.  I  will  tell  him  how  it  is,  and 
he  will  understand  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  dine  at  his 
house." 

"  Come  in,"  he  cried,  gathering  up  his  papers,  and  push- 
ing them  into  a  writing-case. 

"JV-M/  but  you  see  you  lied,  and  he  is  at  home,"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to  the  servant,  who  would  not  let  him 
in  :  then  taking  off  his  overcoat  as  he  walked  along,  he  came 
into  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch's  room. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  find,"  —  he  began  gayly.  "  I  hope"  — 

"It  will  be  impossible  for  me  to  go,"  replied  Alekse'i 


ANNA   KAE&NINA.  391 

Aleksandrovitch  curtly,  receiving  his  brother-in-law  stand- 
ing, without  asking  him  to  sit  down,  resolved  to  adopt  with 
his  wife's  brother  the  cool  relations  which  seemed  proper 
since  he  had  decided  to  get  a  divorce.  He  forgot  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch 's  irresistible  kindness  of  heart.  Oblonsky 
opened  wide  his  beautiful  bright  eyes. 

"  Why  can't  you  come?  Won't  you  tell  me?"  he  asked 
in  French  with  some  hesitation.  "  But  you  promised  to 
come,  and  we  count  on  you." 

"  I  wish  to  tell  you  that  I  cannot  come  because  our  family 
relations  must  be  broken." 

"  How  is  that?     Why?  "  said  Oblonsky  with  a  smile. 

"  Because  I  think  of  getting  a  divorce  from  my  wife,  your 
sister.  I  must  "  — 

The  sentence  was  not  finished,  for  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
contrary  to  his  brother-in-law's  expectations,  sank  into  an 
arm-chair,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch,  it  can't  be  possible,"  he  cried, 
with  pain  expressed  in  his  face. 

"It  is  true." 

"Pardon  me.     I  cannot,  I  cannot  believe  it." 

Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  sat  down  :  he  felt  that  his  words 
had  not  produced  the  desired  effect,  and  that  no  explanation, 
however  categorical,  would  change  his  relations  with  Oblon- 
sky. 

"It  is  a  cruel  necessity,  but  I  am  forced  to  demand  the 
divorce,"  he  replied. 

"  I  will  say  only  one  filing  to  you.  I  know  you  for  a  man 
of  principle,  and  Anna  for  one  of  the  best  of  women,  —  ex- 
cuse me  if  I  cannot  change  my  opinion  of  her,  —  I  cannot 
believe  it:  there  must  be  some  misunderstanding !  " 

"  Da  !  if  it  were  only  a  misunderstanding  !  " 

"  Excuse  me  :  I  understand  ;  but  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  be 
in  haste." 

"  I  have  done  nothing  hastily,"  said  Alekse"i  Aleksandro- 
vitch ;  "but  in  such  a  case,  one  cannot  ask  advice  of  any- 
body :  I  am  decided." 

"  It  is  terrible,"  sighed  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  I  beseech 
you,  if,  as  I  understand,  proceedings  have  not  3'et  begun, 
not  to  do  any  thing  until  you  have  talked  with  my  wife.  She 
loves  Anna  like  a  sister,  she  loves  you,  and  she  is  a  woman 
of  good  sense.  For  God's  sake,  talk  with  her.  Do  me  this 
favor,  I  beg  of  you." 


392  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  was  silent,  and  was  considering. 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  respected  his  silence  :  he  looked  at  him 
sympathetically. 

"  Why  not  come  and  dine  with  us,  at  least  to-day?  My 
wife  expects  you.  Come  and  talk  with  her :  she  is,  I  assure 
you,  a  superior  woman.  Talk  with  her,  I  beg  of  you." 

"If  you  wish  it  for  this  reason,  I  will  go,"  said  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch,  sighing.  And  to  change  the  conversation, 
he  asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  how  he  liked  his  new  natchal- 
nik,  a  man  still  young,  whose  rapid  advancement  was  aston- 
ishing. Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  had  never  liked  Count 
Anitchkin,  and  he  couldn't  help  a  feeling  of  envy  natural  to 
an  official  with  failure  staring  him  in  the  face. 

"  He  is  a  man  who  seems  to  be  very  well  informed  and 
very  active." 

"  Active?  is  it  possible?  but  how  does  he  employ  his  ac- 
tivity? Is  it  in  doing  good,  or  in  destroying  what  others 
have  done  before  him?  The  plague  of  our  government  is 
this  scribbling  bureaucracy,  of  which  Anitchkin  is  a  worthy 
representative. ' ' 

"At  any  rate,  he  is  a  very  good  fellow,"  replied  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch.  "I  have  just  been  with  him  —  a  very  good 
fellow  :  we  lunched  together,  and  I  taught  him  how  to  make 
a  drink,  you  know  —  wine  and  oranges." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Ach,  bdtiush- 
ka!  it  is  after  four  o'clock !  and  I  must  see  Dolgovoshin. 

"It  is  decided,  then,  that  you  will  dine  with  us,  isn't  it? 
Both  my  wife  and  myself  will  feel  really  hurt  if  you  refuse 
to  come." 

Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  took  leave  of  his  brother-in-law 
very  differently  from  the  wa}-  in  which  he  had  greeted  him. 

"  I  have  promised,  and  I  will  come,"  he  replied  in  a  mel- 
anchoVy  tone. 

"  Thank  you  ;  and  I  hope  you  will  not  regret  it." 

And  putting  on  his  overcoat  in  the  hall,  he  shook  his  fist 
at  the  servant's  head,  and  went  out. 


IX. 

THE  clock  had  just  struck  five  when  the  master  of  the 
house  entered,  meeting  Serge"!  Ivanovitch  Kozuuishef  and 
Pestsof  at  the  door.  The  old  Prince  Aleksaudr  Dmitrievitch 


ANNA  EAR£NINA.  393 

Shcherbatsky,  Karenin,  Turovtsuin,  Kitty,  and  the  young 
Shcherbatsky  were  already  in  the  drawing-room.  Conver- 
sation was  languishing.  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  anxious 
because  her  husband  was  late,  did  not  succeed  in  enliven- 
ing her  guests,  whom  the  presence  of  Karenin,  in  black  coat 
and  white  necktie,  according  to  the  Petersburg  custom,  in- 
voluntarily chilled. 

Stepan  Arkady evitch  excused  himself  with  a  jest,  and  with 
his  usual  good  grace  changed  the  gloomy  appearance  of  the 
room  in  a  twinkling  :  he  presented  his  guests  to  one  another, 
furnished  Koznuishef  and  Kareniu  a  subject  of  conversation, 
—  the  Russification  of  Poland,  —  installed  the  old  prince 
near  Dolly,  complimented  Kitty  on  her  beauty,  and  went  to 
glance  at  the  dinner-table,  and  see  about  the  wines. 

Levin  met  him  at  the  door  of  the  dining-room. 

"  I  am  not  late,  am  I?  " 

"'How  could  you  be?"  replied  Oblonsky,  taking  him  by 
the  arm. 

"Are  there  mam- people  here?  Who  are  they?"  asked 
Levin,  blushing  involuntarily,  and  with  his  glove  brushing 
away  the  snow  from  his  hat. 

"  Nobody  but  relatives.  Kitty  is  here.  Come  and  let  me 
present  you  to  Karenin." 

Levin  grew  timid  when  he  knew  that  he  should  meet  her 
whom  he  had  not  seen  since  that  fatal  evening,  except  for  a 
glimpse  of  her  that  he  once  caught  as  she  sat  in  her  car- 
riage. 

"  How  will  she  seem?  Just  as  she  used  to?  If  Dolly  had 
only  been  right !  Why  wasn't  she  right?  "  he  thought. 

"  Ach!  Present  me  to  Karenin,  1  beg  of  you,"  he  suc- 
ceeded in  stammering,  as  he  entered  the  drawing-room  with 
the  courage  of  despair. 

She  was  there,  and  altogether  different  from  what  she  had 
been  before. 

She  saw  him  the  moment  he  entered  ;  and  her  joy  was  so 
great,  that,  while  he  was  greeting  Dolly,  the  poor  child  was 
afraid  of  bursting  into  tears.  Levin  and  Dolly  both  noticed 
it.  Blushing  and  growing  pale  by  turns,  she  was  so  agitated 
that  her  lips  trembled.  Levin  approached  to  speak  to  her  : 
she  gave  him  her  cold  hand  with  a  smile  which  would  have 
appeared  calm  if  her  moist  eyes  had  not  been  so  brilliant. 

"•It  is  a  long  time  since  we  have  seen  each  other,"  she 
forced  herself  to  say. 


394  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

"  You  have  not  seen  me  :  but  I  saw  you  one  day  in  a  car- 
riage, on  the  road  to  Yergushovo,  coming  from  the  railway 
station,"  replied  Levin,  glowing  with  happiness. 

"  When  was  it?  "  asked  she  in  surprise. 

"  You  were  on  your  way  to  your  sister's,"  said  Levin, 
suffocating  with  joy.  "How,"  thought  he,  "could  I  have 
imputed  any  thing  but  innocence  to  this  fascinating  creature? 
Darya  Aleksandrovna  was  right." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  came  to  conduct  him  to  Kare'nin. 

"  Allow  me  to  make  you  acquainted,"  said  he,  presenting 
them  to  one  another. 

"  Delighted  to  find  you  here,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch  coolly,  as  he  took  Levin's  hand. 

"  What !  do  you  already  know  each  other?  "  asked  Oblon- 
sky  with  surprise. 

"  We  travelled  together  for  three  hours,"  said  Levin, 
smiling,  "but  we  parted  as  from  a  masked  ball :  at  least,  it 
was  the  case  with  me." 

"Really? —  Gentlemen,  will  you  pass  into  the  dining- 
room?"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  pointing  towards  the 
door. 

The  men  followed  him,  and  went  to  a  table,  where  the  za- 
Jcuska  was  served.  It  was  composed  of  six  kinds  of  vodka, 
as  many  varieties  of  cheese,  as  well  as  caviare,  preserves, 
and  a  plateful  of  French  bread,  cut  in  very  thin  slices. 

The  men  ate  standing  around  the  table ;  and,  while  wait- 
ing for  the  dinner,  the  Russification  of  Poland  began  to  lan- 
guish. Just  as  they  were  leaving  the  drawing-room,  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  was  trying  to  prove  that  the  high  principles 
introduced  by  the  Russian  administration  could  alone  obtain 
this  result.  Pestsof  maintained  that  one  nation  could  only 
assimilate  another  by  surpassing  it  in  density  of  population. 
Koznuishef ,  with  certain  restrictions,  shared  the  opinions  of 
both  ;  and  to  close  this  serious  conversation  with  a  joke,  he 
added,  smiling,  — 

"  The  most  logical  way,  then,  for  us  to  assimilate  foreign- 
ers, it  seems  to  me,  is  to  have  as  many  children  as  possible. 
It  is  there  where  my  brother  and  I  are  in  fault ;  while  you, 
gentlemen,  and  above  all  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  are  acting 
the  part  of  good  patriots.  How  many  have  you?"  he  asked 
of  the  latter,  handing  him  a  little  glass  of  cordial. 

Everybody  laughed,  and  Oblonsky  most  of  all. 

"Do  you  still  practise  g}'mnastics  ?  "  said  Oblonsky,  tak- 


ANNA   KARfiNlNA.  395 

ing  Levin  by  the  arm  ;  and,  feeling  his  friend's  tense  muscles 
swell  beneath  the  cloth  of  his  coat,  he  said,  "What  biceps! 
You  are  a  regular  Samson." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  necessary  to  be  endowed  with  remarkable 
strength,  to  hunt  bears,  isn't  it?"  said  Aleks£i  Aleksandro- 
vitch,  whose  ideas  about  this  sort  of  hunting  were  of  the 
vaguest. 

Levin  smiled. 

"No:  a  child  could  kill  a  bear;"  —  and  he  drew  back, 
with  a  slight  bow,  to  make  room  for  the  ladies,  who  were 
coming  to  the  table. 

"  I  hear  that  you  have  just  killed  a  bear,"  said  Kitty,  try- 
ing to  get  her  fork  into  a  recalcitrant  mushroom,  and  show- 
ing her  pretty  arm  a  little,  as  she  threw  back  the  lace  in  her 
sleeve.  "Are  there  really  bears  where  you  live?"  she 
added,  half  turning  her  pretty,  smiling  face  towards  him. 
What  a  charm  these  words,  of  so  little  importance  in  them- 
selves ;  the  sound  of  her  voice ;  the  motion  of  her  hands,  of 
her  arms,  and  her  head,  —  all  had  for  him  !  He  saw  in  them 
a  prayer,  an  act  of  confidence,  a  sweet  and  timid  caress,  a 
promise,  a  hope,  even  a  proof  of  love,  which  filled  him  with 
happiness. 

"Oh,  no!  we  were  hunting  in  the  government  of  Tver; 
and  it  was  on  my  way  from  there,  that  I  met  your  brother- 
in-law, —  Stiva's  brother-in-law, — on  the  train,"  said  he, 
smiling.  "The  meeting  was  very  funny." 

And  he  gave  a  lively  and  amusing  description  of  how, 
after  having  been  awake  half  the  night,  he  was  forced  to 
enter  Karenin's  car  in  his  polushubok  [fur  jacket]. 

"The  conductor  wanted  to  put  me  out  on  account  of  my 
appearance  ;  I  felt  mortified  ;  and  you,  sir,"  said  he,  turning 
towards  Karenin,  "  after  scanning  my  costume,  took  my 
part,  for  which  I  felt  very  grateful  to  you." 

"  Travellers'  rights  to  their  choice  of  place  are  generally 
too  little  considered,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  wiping 
the  ends  of  his  fingers  with  his  napkin  after  eating  a  bit  of 
bread  and  cheese. 

"Oh!  I  noticed  that  you  hesitated,"  replied  Levin,  smil- 
ing :  "  that  was  why  I  hastened  to  open  a  serious  subject  of 
conversation,  to  make  you  forget  my  sheepskin." 

Koznuishef,  who  was  talking  with  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  and  at  the  same  time  lending  an  ear  to  the  conversa- 
tion, turned  his  head  towards  his  brother. 


396  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

"  What  makes  him  look  so  triumphant?  "  thought  he. 

And  really,  Levin  felt  as  though  he  had  wings.  For  she 
was  listening  to  him,  she  was  taking  pleasure  in  what  he 
said  :  ever}'  other  interest  disappeared  before  that.  He  was 
alone  with  her,  not  only  in  this  room,  but  in  the  whole  world, 
and  looked  down  from  dizzy  heights  on  these  excellent  peo- 
ple,—  Oblonsky,  Karenin,  and  the  rest  of  humanity. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  seemed  entirely  to  forget  Levin  and 
Kitty  in  placing  his  guests  at  table :  then  suddenly  remem- 
bering them,  he  put  them  side  by  side. 

"  Nu!  you  can  sit  there,"  said  he  to  Levin. 

The  dinner,  elegantly  served,  —  for  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
made  a  great  point  of  this,  —  was  a  complete  success.  The 
Marie-Louise  soup,  served  with  little  pasties  which  melted 
in  the  mouth,  was  perfect ;  and  Matve" ,  with  two  servants  in 
white  neckties,  waited  skilfully  and  noiselessly. 

The  success  was  no  less  great  from  a  conversational  point 
of  view ;  sometimes  general,  sometimes  special,  it  never 
lagged :  and  when  they  left  the  table,  after  dinner,  even 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  was  thawed  out. 


X. 

PESTSOF,  who  liked  to  discuss  a  question  thoroughly,  was 
not  satisfied  with  Koznuishef's  interrupting  him  :  he  felt  that 
he  hadn't  been  allowed  to  express  his  thought  sufficiently. 

"  In  speaking  of  the  density  of  the  population,  I  didn't  in- 
tend to  make  it  the  principle  of  an  assimilation,  but  only  a 
means,"  said  he  after  the  soup,  addressing  himself  partic- 
ularly to  Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch. 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  that  amounts  to  the  same  thing," 
replied  Kareniii  slowly.  "In  my  judgment,  a  people  can 
have  no  influence  over  another  people  unless  they  are  supe- 
rior in  point  of  civilization  ' '  — 

"That  is  precisely  the  question,"  interrupted  Pestsof, 
with  so  much  ardor,  that  he  seemed  to  put  his  whole  soul 
into  defending  his  own  opinions.  "  How  is  one  to  recognize 
this  superior  civilization?  Which,  among  the  different  na- 
tions of  Europe,  shall  take  the  lead?  Is  it  France,  or  Eng- 
land, or  Germany,  which  shall  nationalize  her  neighbors?  We 
have  seen  the  Rhine  provinces  nationalized  by  the  French  :  is 
it  a  proof  of  inferiority  on  the  side  of  the  Germans?  No: 
there  is  some  other  law,"  he  cried  in  his  bass  voice. 


ANNA   KARtfNINA.  397 

' '  I  believe  that  the  balance  will  always  turn  in  favor  of 
this  true  civilization." 

"  But  what  are  the  signs  of  this  true  civilization?  " 

"  I  believe  that  everybody  knows  them." 

"But  are  they  really  known?"  asked  Sergei  Ivanovitch 
with  a  subtle  smile.  "  One  willingly  believes  for  the  mo- 
ment, that  civilization  does  not  exist  outside  of  classical  in- 
struction ;  we  have  furious  debates  on  this  point,  and  each 
side  brings  forward  proofs  that  are  not  lacking  in  value." 

"Are  you  in  favor  of  the  classics,  Sergei  Ivanovitch?" 
said  Oblonsky.  —  "  Shall  I  give  you  some  claret?  " 

"I  am  not  speaking  of  my  personal  opinions,"  replied 
Koznuishef,  with  the  condescension  that  he  would  have 
shown  a  child  as  he  reached  his  glass.  "  I  only  pretend  that 
the  reasons  alleged  are  good  on  both  sides,"  continued  he, 
addressing  Kare'nin.  "  As  for  my  education,  it  was  classi- 
cal ;  but  that  doesn't  hinder  me  from  finding  that  classical 
studies  do  not  offer  unexceptional  proofs  of  their  superiority 
to  others." 

"  The  natural  sciences  tend  just  as  much  to  the  pedagogi- 
cal development  of  the  human  mind,"  replied  Pestsof. 
"  Look  at  astronomy,  botany,  and  zoology,  with  the  unity  of 
their  laws  ! ' ' 

"  That  is  an  opinion  that  I  cannot  share,"  replied  Aleks6i 
Aleksaudrovitch.  "  Can  the  happy  influence  on  the  develop- 
ment of  intelligence  be  denied  in  the  study  of  the  forms  of 
language?  Ancient  literature  is  eminently  moral;  while,  un- 
fortunately for  us,  the  study  of  the  natural  sciences  has 
been  complicated  with  fatal  and  false  doctrines,  which  are 
the  bane  of  our  time." 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  was  going  to  reply,  but  Pestsof  inter- 
rupted him  in  his  deep  voice,  to  demonstrate,  with  excite- 
ment, the  injustice  of  this  statement :  when  Koznuishef  at 
last  had  a  chance  to  speak,  he  said,  smiling,  to  Aleks£i 
Aleksandrovitch,  — 

"  You  acknowledge  that  the  pros  and  cons  of  the  two  sys- 
tems will  be  difficult  to  establish,  if  the  anti-nihilistic  —  let  us 
call  it  by  its  right  name  —  moral  influence  does  not  militate 
in  its  favor  ?  ' ' 

"Undoubtedly." 

"  We  shall  leave  the  field  more  free  to  both  systems  if  we 
do  not  look  upon  classical  education  as  a  sort  of  pill  to  be 
offered  freely  to  our  patients  as  an  antidote  to  nihilism.  But 
are  we  perfectly  sure  of  the  healing-properties  of  these  pills?" 


398  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

This  made  everybody  laugh,  especially  the  big  Turovtsuin, 
who  had  tried  in  vain  to  be  lively  until  this  moment. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  been  right  in  counting  on  Pest- 
zof  to  carry  on  the  conversation  ;  for  Koznuishef  had  hardly 
finished  with  his  jest  when  he  replied,  — 

"  One  cannot  well  accuse  the  government  of  proposing  a 
cure,  for  it  remains  to  all  appearances  indifferent  to  the  con- 
sequences of  the  measure  it  takes  :  it  is  public  opinion  which 
directs  it.  I  will  quote  as  an  example,  the  question  of 
higher  education  for  women.  It  must  be  looked  upon  as 
dangerous,  since  the  government  opens  the  public  lectures 
and  the  universities  to  women." 

And  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  new  theme  of  the 
education  of  women. 

Aleksei  Aleksandnrvitch  expressed  the  thought  that  the 
education  of  women  was  too  much  confused  with  their  eman- 
cipation, and  could  be  considered  dangerous  only  from  that 
point  of  view. 

"  I  believe,  on  the  contrary,  that  these  two  questions  are 
intimately  connected,"  said  Pestzof.  ''Woman  is  deprived 
of  rights  because  she  is  deprived  of  education,  and  the  lack 
of  education  tends  to  the  absence  of  rights.  Let  us  not  for- 
get that  the  bondage  of  woman  is  so  ancient,  so  interwoven 
with  our  customs,  that  we  are  very  often  incapable  of  under- 
standing the  legal  abyss  that  separates  her  from  us." 

"  You  speak  of  rights,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  as  soon  as 
he  had  a  chance  to  put  in  a  word :  "  is  it  a  right  to  fulfil  the 
functions  of  jurist,  of  municipal  counsellor,  of  president  of 
the  tribunal,  of  public  functionary,  of  member  of  parlia- 
ment?" 

"Without  doubt." 

"  But  if  women  can  exceptionally  fill  these  functions, 
wouldn't  it  be  more  fair  to  give  it  the  name  of  duties  instead 
of  rights?  A  lawyer,  a  telegraph  employer,  fulfils  a  duty. 
Let  us  say,  then,  to  speak  logically,  that  women  are  seeking 
for  duties,  and  in  this  case  we  shall  sympathize  with  their 
desire  to  take  part  in  man's  work." 

"That  is  fair,"  affirmed  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch :  "the 
principal  thing  is  to  know  whether  they  are  capable  of  fulfill- 
ing these  duties." 

"  They  will  be,  certainly,  as  soon  as  they  have  been  gener- 
ally educated,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  We  see  it  "  — 

"And  the  proverb?"  asked  the  old  prince,  whose  little, 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  399 

scornful  eyes  shone  as  he  listened  to  this  conversation.  "  I 
may  repeat  it  before  my  daughters :  '  Woman  has  long 
hair'"  — 

"That  is  the  way  we  judged  the  negroes  before  their 
emancipation!  "  cried  Peetsof  with  dissatisfaction. 

"  I  admit  that  what  astonishes  me  most,"  said  Sergei 
Ivanuitch,  "  is  to  see  women  trying  to  undertake  new  duties, 
when  we  see,  unfortunately,  that  men  shirk  theirs  as  much 
as  possible." 

'•Duties  are  accompanied  by  rights:  honor,  influence, 
money,  these  are  what  women  are  after,"  said  Pestsof. 

';  Exactly  as  though  I  solicited  the  right  to  become  a 
nurse,  and  found  it  hard  to  be  refused,  while  women  are  paid 
for  it,"  said  the  old  prince. 

Turovtsuin  burst  out  laughing,  and  Serg6i  Ivanovitch  re- 
gretted that  he  was  not  the  author  of  this  pleasantry.  Even 
Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch  himself  smiled. 

"Da!  enough  of  nurses,"  said  Sergei  Ivanuitch.  "But 
women  "  — 

"  But  what  about  young  girls,  without  any  family?  "  asked 
Stepan  Arkady evitch,  who,  in  taking  Pestsof 's  part,  had  been 
thinking  all  the  time  of  Chibisovaia,  his  little  dancing-girl. 

"  If  you  look  closely  into  the  lives  of  these  young  girls," 
interposed  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  with  a  shade  of  bitter- 
ness, "  you  will  doubtless  find  that  they  have  left  a  family  or 
a  sister,  and  that  women's  duties  were  within  their  reach." 

Dolly  instinctively  understood  what  sort  of  women  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  meant. 

"  But  we  are  defending  a  principle,  an  ideal,"  answered 
Pestsof,  in  his  thundering  voice.  "  Woman  claims  the  right 
to  be  independent  and  educated :  she  suffers  from  her  inabil- 
ity to  obtain  independence  and  education." 

"And  I  suffer  from  not  being  admitted  as  nurse  to  the 
foundling-asylum,"  repeated  the  old  prince,  to  the  great 
amusement  of  Turovtsuin,  letting  the  large  cud  of  a  piece  of 
asparagus  fall  into  his  sauce. 

XI. 

KITTY  and  Levin  were  the  only  ones  who  had  not  taken 
part  in  the  conversation. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  dinner,  when  they  were  talking 
about  the  influence  of  one  people  over  another,  Levin  re- 


400  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

called  the  opinions  that  he  had  formed  on  the  subject ;  but 
they  quickly  disappeared,  as  of  no  longer  any  interest ;  he 
thought  it  strange  that  people  could  trouble  themselves  about 
such  useless  questions. 

Kitty,  for  her  part,  ought  to  haVe  been  interested  in  the 
discussion  of  women's  rights,  for  not  only  had  she  often  con- 
sidered them,  on  account  of  her  friend  Varenka,  whose  de- 
pendence was  so  hard  to  bear,  but  also  on  her  own  account, 
in  case  she  should  not  many.  She  had  often  had  disputes 
with  her  sister  on  the  subject.  How  little  interest  she  felt 
in  it  now !  Between  Levin  and  herself  there  had  sprung  up 
a  mysterious  affinity,  which  brought  them  nearer  and  nearer 
to  one  another,  and  filled  them  with  a  joyful  fear,  on  the 
threshold  of  the  new  life  that  they  caught  a  glimpse  of. 

Kitty  asked  how  he  had  happened  to  see  her  in  the  sum- 
mer, and  Levin  told  her  that  he  was  returning  from  the 
prairies  by  the  highway  after  the  mowing. 

"  It  was  very  early  in  the  morning.  You  had  probably 
just  waked  :  your  mamma  was  still  asleep  in  her  corner.  The 
morning  was  superb.  I  was  walking  along,  saying  to  my- 
self, 'A  carriage  with  four  horses?  Whose  can  it  be?' 
They  were  four  fine  horses  with  bells.  And  quick  as  a 
flash,  you  passed  before  me.  I  saw  }TOU  through  the  door : 
you  were  sitting  like  this,  holding  the  ribbons  of  your  bon- 
net in  your  hands,  and  you  seemed  plunged  in  deep  thought. 
How  I  wished  I  could  know,"  he  added  with  a  smile,  "  what 
3'ou  were  thinking  about !  Was  it  something  very  impor- 
tant?" 

"  Is  it  possible  that  I  didn't  haA*e  my  bonnet  on?  "  thought 
Kitty.  But  seeing  the  enthusiastic  smile  which  lighted  up 
Levin's  face,  she  felt  re-assured  about  the  impression  she  had 
produced,  and  replied,  blushing,  and  laughing  merrily, — 

"  I  really  don't  know  an}'  thing  about  it." 

"  How  heartily  Turovtsuin  laughs !  "  said  Levin,  admiring 
the  gayety  of  this  big  fellow,  whose  eyes  were  moist,  and  his 
sides  shaking  with  laughter. 

"  Have  you  known  him  long?  "  asked  Kitty. 

"  Who  doesn't  know  him?  " 

"  And  I  see  that  you  think  that  he  is  a  bad  man." 

"  That  is  saying  too  much ;  but  he  isn't  worth  much." 

"  That  is  unjust.  I  beg  you  not  to  think  so  any  more," 
said  Kitty.  "I,  too,  once  misjudged  him  ;  but  he  is  an  ex- 
cellent man.  His  heart  —  true  gold." 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  401 

"  How  can  you  know  what  kind  of  a  heart  he  has?  " 
"  We  are  very  good  friends.  Last  winter,  a  short  time 
after  —  after  you  stopped  coming  to  our  house,"  said  she, 
rather  guiltily,  but  with  a  confiding  smile,  "  Dolly's  children 
had  the  sicarlatiua,  and  one  day  Turovtsuin  happened  to  call 
on  my  sister.  Would  you  believe  it?  "  she  said,  lowering  her 
voice :  "  he  was  so  sorry  for  them,  that  he  staid  to  take  care 
of  the  little  invalids.  For  three  weeks  he  played  nurse  to 
the  children.  I  am  telling  Konstautin  Dmitritch  of  Turovt- 
suin's  kindness  at  the  tune  of  the  scarlatina,"  said  she,  turn- 
ing towards  her  sister. 

"  Yes,  it  was  remarkable  :  it  was  lovely  !  "  replied  Dolly, 
looking  at  Turovtsuiu  with  a  grateful  smile.  Levin  also 
looked  at  him,  and  was  surprised  that  he  had  never  under- 
stood him  till  then. 

XII. 

THE  discussion  about  the  emancipation  of  women  was  a 
delicate  one  to  carry  on  in  the  presence  of  the  ladies,  so  it 
was  dropped.  But  as  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  Pestsof  ad- 
dressed Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch,  and  tried  to  explain  this 
question  from  the  stand-point  of  inequality  of  rights  between 
husband  and  wife  in  marriage ;  the  principal  reason  for  this 
inequality  depending,  in  his  opinion,  on  the  difference  estab- 
lished bylaw,  and  by  public  opinion,  between  the  infidelity  of 
a  wife  and  that  of  a  husband. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  suddenly  offered  a  cigar  to  Kareniu. 

"  No,  I  do  not  smoke,"  replied  the  latter  calmly ;  and  as 
if  to  prove  that  he  was  not  afraid  of  this  conversation,  he 
turned  towards  Pestsof  with  his  icy  smile. 

"  This  inequality  goes,  it  seems  to  me,  to  the  very  root  of 
things,"  said  he,  and  he  turned  towards  the  drawing-room  ; 
but  here  Turovtsuin  again  interrupted  him. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  story  about  Priatchnikof  ?  "  he 
asked,  animated  by  the  champagne,  and  taking  advantage 
of  a  moment  that  he  had  been  impatiently  awaiting,  to  break 
a  silence  which  weighed  heavily  on  him.  "  Vasia  Priatch- 
nikof?" and  he  turned  towards  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch, 
as  towards  the  most  important  guest,  with  a  good-natured 
smile  on  his  thick  lips,  red  and  moist.  "  I  heard,  this 
morning,  that  he  fought  a  duel  at  Tver,  with  Kvuitsky,  and 
killed  him." 


402  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

The  conversation  seemed  fated,  on  this  occasion,  to  touch 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  on  the  sore  spot.  Stepan  Arkactye- 
vitch  noticed  it,  and  wished  to  come  to  his  brother-in-law's 
assistance;  but  Kareuin  asked,  with  curiosity,  "Why  did 
he  fight  a  duel?  "  • 

"On  account  of  his  wife  :  he  behaved  bravely  about  it, 
for  he  challenged  his  rival,  and  killed  him." 

"Ah!"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  with  unconcern; 
and,  raising  his  eyebrows,  he  left  the  room. 

Dolly  was  waiting  for  him  in  a  little  parlor,  and  said, 
smiling  timidly,  — 

"  How  glad  I  am  that  you  came  !  I  want  to  talk  with  you. 
Let  us  sit  down  here." 

Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch,  preserving  the  air  of  indiffer- 
ence caused  by  his  elevated  eyebrows,  sat  down  near  her. 

"  All  the  more  willingly,"  said  he,  "  as  I  wish  to  ask  you 
to  excuse  me  for  leaving  you  as  soon  as  possible.  I  go  away 
to-morrow  morning." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna,  firmly  convinced  of  Anna's  inno- 
cence, was  conscious  of  growing  pale  and  trembling  with 
anger  before  this  heartless,  unfeeling  man,  who  coolly  pro- 
posed to  ruin  her  friend. 

"Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,"  she  said,  with  desperate 
courage,  collecting  all  her  firmness  to  look  him  full  in  the 
face,  "  I  have  asked  .you  to  give  me  news  of  Anna,  and 
you  have  not  replied  :  how  is  she?  " 

"  I  think  that  she  is  well,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,"  replied 
Karenin,  without  looking  at  her. 

"Pardon  me,  if  I  have  no  right  to  insist  upon  it;  but  I 
love  Anna  like  a  sister ;  tell  me,  I  pray  you,  what  has  hap- 
pened between  you  and  her,  and  what  you  accuse  her  of." 

Kareniu  frowned,  and  bent  his  head,  almost  closing  his 
eyes. 

"  Your  husband  must  have  told  you,  I  think,  the  reasons 
which  oblige  me  to  break  my  relations  with  Anna  Arkad- 
yevna,"  said  he,  casting  a  glance  of  annoyance  towards 
Shcherbatsky,  who  was  passing  through  the  room. 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,  I  do  not  believe  it !  and  I  never  will 
believe  it!  "  murmured  Dolly,  pressing  her  thin  hands  to- 
gether energetically.  She  rose  quickly,  and,  touching  Alek- 
s6i  Aleksandrovitch' s  arm,  said,  "We  shall  be  disturbed 
here  :  let  us  go  in  there,  please." 

Dolly's  emotion  was  communicated  to  Kareuin :  he  arose, 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  403 

and  followed  her  into  the  children's  schoolroom,  where  they 
seated  themselves  in  front  of  a  table  covered  with  an  oil- 
cloth, somewhat  the  worse  for  pen-knife  strokes. 

"  1  don't  believe  it,  I  don't  believe  it!  "  repeated  Dolly, 
trying  to  catch  his  eye,  which  avoided  hers. 

"One  cannot  deny  facts,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,"  said 
he,  dwelling  on  the  word  facts. 

"  But  what  has  she  done?  precisely  what  has  she  done?  " 

"  She  has  failed  to  do  her  duty,  and  betrayed  her  husband. 
That  is  what  she  has  done." 

"  No,  no !  it  is  impossible !  no,  thank  the  Lord,  you  are 
mistaken!  "  cried  Dolly,  putting  her  hands  to  her  temples, 
and  closing  her  eyes. 

Aleks^i  Aleksaudrovitch  smiled  coolly  out  of  the  corners 
of  his  mouth :  he  wished  to  prove  to  Dolly,  and  to  prove  to 
himself,  that  his  conviction  was  immovable.  But  at  this 
heated  interference,  his  wound  opened  afresh ;  and  although 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  doubt,  he  replied  with  less  cold- 
ness, — 

"  It  is  difficult  to  make  a  mistake  when  a  woman  herself 
declares  to  her  husband  that  eight  years  of  married  life 
and  a  sou  count  for  nothing,  and  that  she  wishes  to  begin 
life  over  again,"  he  replied  angrily,  dilating  his  nostrils. 

"  Anna  and  vice  !  I  cannot  associate  the  two  ideas  :  I  can- 
not believe  it." 

"  Darya  Aleksandrovna  !  "  —  said  he  angrily,  now  looking 
straight  at  Dolly's  distressed  face,  and  feeling  his  tongue 
involuntarily  unloosed,  —  "  I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  be 
able  still  to  have  any  doubts  !  Yesterday,  doubt  was  cruel, 
but  the  present  is  still  more  cruel.  When  I  doubted,  I  hoped 
in  spite  of  every  thing.  Now  there  is  no  hope,  and,  more- 
over, I  have  doubted  every  thing.  I  am  so  full  of  doubt  that 
I  cannot  bear  to  see  my  sou.  I  sometimes  do  not  believe 
that  he  is  my  son.  I  am  very  unhappy  !  " 

As  soon  as  Dolly  met  his  look,  she  understood  that  he 
was  telling  her  what  was  true.  She  pitied  him,  and  her  faith 
in  her  friend's  innocence  was  shaken. 

"Adi!  it  is  terrible!  but  are  you  really  decided  about 
the  divorce  ?  ' ' 

"  I  have  resorted  to  this  at  last,  because  "  — 

"  Don't  do  it!  Don't  do  it!  "  said  Dolly,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes.  "  No,  don't  do  it !  " 

"  I  see  no  other  way  to  take.     The  most  dreadful  thing 


404  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

about  a  misfortune  of  this  kind  is,  that  one  cannot  bear  his 
cross  as  in  any  other,  —  a  loss  or  a  death,"  said  he,  divining 
Dolly's  thought.  "You  cannot  remain  in  the  humiliating 
position  brought  upon  you,  on  ne  pent  vivre  ct  trois!  " 

"  I  understand,  I  understand  perfectly,"  replied  Dolly, 
bowing  her  head.  She  was  silent,  and  her  own  domestic  trou- 
bles came  to  her  mind  ;  but  suddenly  she  folded  her  hands 
with  a  supplicating  gesture,  and,  lifting  her  eyes  fearlessly 
to  Kare"niu,  "  Wait  a  bit,"  she  said  :  "  you  are  a  Christian. 
Think  what  will  become  of  her  if  you  abandon  her." 

"  I  have  thought  of  it.  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about 
it,  Darya  Aleksandrovna."  He  looked  at  her  with  troubled 
eyes,  and  his  face  turned  crimson.  Dolly  pitied  him  now 
from  the  bottom  of  her  heart.  "  When  she  told  me  of  her 
disgrace  herself,  I  gave  her  a  chance  to  re-instate  herself. 
I  tried  to  save  her.  What  did  she  do  then  ?  She  paid  no 
attention  to  the  least  of  demands,  —  respect  to  propriety  !  " 
he  added,  choking.  "One  can  save  a  man  who  does  not  want 
to  perish :  but  with  a  nature  corrupt  to  the  extent  of  finding 
happiness  in  his  destruction,  what  would  you  have  one  do?  " 

"Every  thing,  except  divorce." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  every  thing?  " 

"  Only  think  that  she  will  no  longer  be  anybody's  wife. 
She  will  be  lost !  It  is  terrible  !  " 

"  What  can  I  do?  "  replied  Kare'nin,  raising  his  shoulders 
and  his  eyebrows ;  and  the  memory  of  his  last  explanation 
with  his  wife,  suddenly  brought  him  back  to  the  same  degree 
of  coldness  as  at  the  beginning  of  the  interview.  "  I  am 
very  grateful  to  you  for  your  sympathy,  but  I  am  compelled 
to  leave  you,"  he  added,  rising. 

"No,  wait  a  moment!  you  must  not  give  her  up :  listen 
to  me  ;  I  speak  from  experience.  I,  too,  am  married,  and  my 
husband  deceived  me  :  in  my  jealousy  and  my  indignation, 
I  too  wished  to  leave  him ;  but  I  considered  the  matter,  and 
who  saved  me?  Anna.  Now  I  am  living  again.  Now  my 
children  are  growing  up,  my  husband  has  returned  to  his 
family,  knows  his  wrong-doing,  is  growing  better,  nobler. 
I  live,  I  have  forgiven  him  ;  and  you  ought  to  forgive  her !  " 

Aleks^i  Aleksandrovitch  listened  ;  but  Dolly's  words  were 
of  no  effect,  for  the  anger  which  caused  him  to  decide  upon 
a  divorce  was  rankling  in  his  soul.  He  replied  in  a  loud, 
penetrating  voice,  "Forgive  her?  I  cannot,  nor  do  I  wish 
to.  It  would  be  unjust.  I  have  done  what  was  next  to  im- 


ANNA  KAKtiNINA.  405 

possible  for  this  woman,  and  she  has  dragged  every  thing 
in  the  mire,  which  seems  to  suit  her  better.  I  am  not  a  bad 
man,  and  I  have  never  hated  anybody  before;  but  her  I 
hate  with  all  the  strength  of  my  soul,  and  I  will  not  forgive 
her,  for  she  has  done  me  too  great  wrong!  "  and  tears  of 
anger  trembled  in  his  voice. 

k¥Love  them  that  hate  you,"  murmured  Dolly,  almost 
ashamed. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  smiled  scornfully.  He  was  famil- 
iar with  these  words,  but  the}"  did  not  apply  to  his  situation. 

"  We  can  love  those  who  hate  us,  but  not  those  whom  we 
hate.  I  beg  your  pardon  for  having  troubled  you  :  sufficient 
unto  every  man  is  his  own  burden."  And  having  recovered 
his  self -possession,  Kaie"nin  calmly  took  leave  of  Dolly,  and 
went  away. 

XIII. 

LEVIN  resisted  the  temptation  to  follow  Kitty  into  the 
drawing-room  after  leaving  the  table,  lest  she  should  be 
offended  by  too  marked  attention  from  him :  he  remained 
with  the  men,  and  took  part  in  the  general  conversation. 
But,  without  looking  at  Kitty,  he  saw  every  motion  that  she 
made,  aud  knew  just  where  she  was  in  the  drawing-room. 
At  first  he  fulfilled,  without  the  least  effort,  the  promise  that 
he  had  made  to  love  his  neighbor,  and  to  think  nothing  but 
good  of  him.  The  conversation  turned  on  the  commune  in 
Russia,  which  Pestsof  considered  as  a  new  order  of  things, 
destined  to  serve  as  an  example  to  the  rest  of  the  world. 
Levin  agreed  as  little  with  him  as  he  did  with  Sergei  Ivan- 
ovitch,  who  recognized,  and  at  the  same  time  denied,  the 
value  of  this  institution  ;  but  he  tried  to  reconcile  them  by 
toning  down  the  terms  which  they  used,  without  showing  the 
least  partiality  in  the  discussion.  His  one  desire  was,  to  see 
both  of  them  happy  and  contented.  The  one  person  from 
henceforth  of  any  importance  to  him  was  coming  near  the 
door.  He  felt  a  look  and  a  smile  fixed  upon  him,  and  was 
obliged  to  look  around.  She  was  standing  there  with 
Shcherbatsky,  and  looking  at  him. 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  sit  down  at  the  piano,"  said 
he,  approaching  her.  "  Music  is  what  I  have  to  do  without 
in  the  country." 

"  No,  we  merely  came  to  find  you ;  and  I  thank  you  for 


406  ANNA  KAEfiNINA. 

coming  to  us,"  she  replied,  recompensing  him  with  a  smile. 
"What  pleasure  can  there  be  in  discussing?  Nobody  is 
ever  convinced." 

"  Da!  how  true  that  is  !  " 

Levin  had  so  many  times  noticed  that  long  discussions, 
with  great  efforts  to  be  logical,  and  a  great  waste  of  words, 
often  produced  no  result,  that  he  was  delighted  to  hear 
Kitty  express  his  thoughts  so  exactly.  Shcherbatsk}-  stepped 
away ;  and  the  young  girl,  going  to  a  card-table,  sat  down, 
and,  taking  a  piece  of  chalk  in  her  baud,  began  to  draw 
circles  on  the  cloth. 

"  Ach!  I  have  covered  the  table  with  my  scrawls,"  said 
she,  laying  down  the  chalk,  after  a  moment's  silence,  with  a 
movement,  as  if  she  were  going  to  rise. 

"What  shall  I  do  to  stay  with  her?"  thought  Levin, 
terrified. 

"  Wait,"  said  he,  sitting  down  near  the  table.  "  I  have 
wanted  for  a  long  time  to  ask  you  something." 

He  looked  at  her  fondly,  but  a  little  disturbed. 

"What  is  it?" 

"This  is  it,"  said  he,  taking  the  chalk,  and  writing  the 
letters  w,  y,  s,  ?',  i,  i,  w,  i,  i,  t,  o,  a?  These  letters  were  the 
initials  of  the  words,  "  When  you  said,  'It  is  impossible,' 
was  it  impossible  then,  or  always?  " 

It  was  not  at  all  likely  that  Kitty  would  be  able  to  make 
out  this  complicated  question.  Levin  looked  at  her,  never- 
theless, as  though  his  life  depended  on  whether  she  could 
guess  these  words. 

She  studied  it  seriously,  resting  her  forehead  on  her  hand, 
and  gave  her  whole  attention  to  deciphering  it,  interrogating 
Levin  occasionally  with  her  eyes. 

"  I  know  what  it  is,"  said  she,  blushing. 

"  What  is  this  word?  "  he  asked,  pointing  to  the  i  of  the 
word  impossible, 

"  That  letter  stands  for  impossible.  The  word  is  not 
right,"  she  replied. 

He  quickly  rubbed  out  what  he  had  written,  and  gave  the 
chalk  to  her.  She  wrote  :  £,  /,  c,  n,  a,  d. 

Dolly,  seeing  her  sister  with  the  chalk  in  her  hand,  a  timid 
and  happy  smile  on  her  lips,  raising  her  eyes  to  Levin,  who 
was  leaning  over  the  table,  beaming  now  at  her,  now  at  the 
cloth,  felt  consoled  for  her  conversation  with  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch.  She  saw  Levin  light  up  with  joy  ;  he  had  un- 
derstood the  reply  :  "  Then  I  could  not  answer  differently." 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  407 

He  looked  at  Kitty  timidly  and  inquiringly. 

"Only  then?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  young  girl's  smile. 

"And  —  now?"  he  asked. 

"  Read  this.  I  will  tell  you  what  I  wish  ;  "  and  she  quickly 
traced  the  initials  of  the  words,  "That  you  can  forgive  and 
forget. ' ' 

He  seized  the  chalk  in  turn,  with  his  excited,  trembling 
fingers,  and  replied  in  the  same  way,  "  I  have  never  ceased 
to  love  you." 

Kitty  looked  at  him,  and  her  smile  died  away. 

"  I  understand,"  she  murmured. 

"  You  are  playing  secretaire,  are  you  ?  "  said  the  old  prince, 
coming  up  to  them.  "  Nu!  But,  if  you  are  going  to  the 
theatre,  it  is  time  to  start." 

Levin  rose  and  accompanied  Kitty  to  the  door.  This  con- 
versation decided  every  thing :  Kitty  had  acknowledged  her 
love  for  him,  and  had  given  him  permission  to  come  the  next 
morning  to  speak  to  her  parents. 


XIV. 

AFTER  Kitty  had  gone,  Levin  felt  a  restlessness  come  over 
him  :  he  dreaded  as  he  dreaded  death  the  fourteen  hours  to 
be  endured  before  to-morrow  when  he  should  see  her  again. 
To  pass  away  the  time,  he  felt  it  absolutel}-  necessary  not 
to  remain  alone,  but  to  have  somebody  to  talk  to.  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch.  whom  he  would  have  liked  to  keep  with  him, 
was  going  apparently  to  a  reception,  but  in  reality  to  the 
ballet.  Levin  could  only  tell  him  that  he  was  happy,  and 
should  never,  never  forget  what  he  owed  to  him. 

"What!  Then  you  have  nothing  more  to  say  about  dy- 
ing?" said  Oblonsky,  pressing  his  friend's  hand  affection- 
ately. 

"  N_N—  N—  No,"  replied  the  latter. 

Dolly,  too,  almost  congratulated  him  when  she  bade  him 
good-night.  She  said,  "  How  glad  I  am  that  you  have  made 
up  with  Kitty  !"  and  her  words  displeased  Levin.  Nothing 
would  allow  him  to  allude  to  his  good  fortune.  To  avoid 
being  alone,  he  joined  his  brother. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  To  a  meeting." 

' '  Nu  I    I'll  go  with  you.     May  I  ?  " 


408  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

"  Why  not?  "  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  smiling.  "  What  has 
happened  to  3-011  to-day?  " 

"What  has  happened?  Good  fortune,"  said  Levin,  let- 
ting clown  the  carriage  window.  "  Have  you  any  objection? 
I  am  suffocating.  Why  have  you  never  been  married?  " 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  smiled. 

"  I  am  delighted  :  she  is  a  charming  girl,"  he  began. 

"No,  don't  say  any  thing  about  it,  don't  say  any  thing 
about  it!  "  cried  Levin,  seizing  the  collar  of  his  shuba,  and 
covering  his  face  with  the  fur.  A  charming  girl :  what  com- 
monplace words !  and  how  feebly  they  corresponded  to  his 
feelings  ! 

"  To-morrow  you  may  speak  ;  but  not  another  word  now, 
not  another  word,  not  another  word  !  Be  silent.  I  love  you 
very  much.  What  is  your  subject  for  discussion  to-day?" 
asked  Levin,  still  smiling. 

They  had  reached  their  destination.  During  the  meeting 
Levin  heard  the  secretary  stammer  through  the  report  that 
he  did  not  understand  :  but  he  could  see,  from  this  secretary's 
face,  that  he  was  a  good,  amiable,  sympathetic  fellow  ;  it  was 
evident  from  the  way  that  he  hesitated  and  became  confused 
while  reading.  Then  came  the  debates.  They  discussed 
about  the  disposal  of  certain  sums  of  money,  and  the  laying 
of  certain  sewer-pipes.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  attacked  two  mem- 
bers of  the  commission,  and  made  a  triumphant  speech 
against  them  ;  after  which  another  member,  reading  from  a 
paper,  after  some  timid  hesitation,  replied  briefly  in  a  charm- 
ing though  bitter  fashion  ;  and  then  Sviazhsky,  in  his  turn, 
expressed  his  opinions  nobh*  and  eloquently.  Levin  listened 
all  the  while,  feeling  that  the  money  to  be  expended,  the 
sewer-pipes,  and  the  rest,  were  of  no  serious  importance ; 
that  they  were  only  a  pretext  to  bring  together  pleasant,  con- 
genial people.  Nobody  was  bored,  and  Levin  noticed  with 
surprise  —  from  some  trifling  incidents  which  once  would 
have  entirely  escaped  his  notice  —  that  he  could  now  pene- 
trate the  thoughts  of  each  of  the  speakers,  read  their  souls, 
and  see  what  excellent  natures  they  possessed  ;  and  he  felt 
that  they  all  liked  him.  Those  who  did  not  know  him  seemed 
to  speak  to  him,  to  look  at  him  pleasantly  and  in  a  friendly 
manner. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  like  it?  "  asked  Serge" i  Ivanovitch. 

"  Very  much  :  I  never  should  have  believed  that  it  would 
be  so  interesting." 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  409 

Sviazhsky  approached  the  two  brothers,  and  invited  Levin 
to  come  and  take  a  cup  of  tea  at  his  house. 

"  I  should  be  delighted,"  replied  the  latter,  forgetting  his 
old  prejudices  ;  and  he  immediately  inquired  after  Madame 
Sviazhsky  and  her  sister.  By  a  strange  association  of  ideas, 
as  Sviazhsky's  sister-in-law  suggested  marriage,  he  con- 
cluded that  nobody  would  be  more  interested  than  she  and 
her  sister  to  hear  of  his  happiness.  So  he  was  very  much 
pleased  with  the  idea  of  going  to  see  them. 

Sviazhsky  questioned  him  about  his  affairs,  always  refus- 
ing to  admit  that  any  thing  could  be  discovered  which  had 
not  already  been  discovered  in  Europe  ;  but  his  theory  did 
not  arouse  Levin's  opposition.  Sviazhsky  ought  to  be  right 
on  all  points,  and  Levin  admired  the  gentleness  and  deli- 
cacy with  which  he  avoided  proving  it  too  clearly. 

The  ladies  were  charming.  Levin  believed  that  they 
knew  all,  and  that  they  shared  his  joy,  but  that  they 
avoided  speaking  of  it  from  discretion.  He  remained  for 
three  hours,  talking  on  various  subjects,  and  continually  al- 
luding to  what  filled  his  soul,  without  noticing  that  he  was 
mortally  tiring  his  friends,  and  that  they  were  falling  asleep. 

At  last,  Sviazhsky,  yawning,  accompanied  him  to  the  ves- 
tibule, very  much  surprised  at  his  friend's  behavior.  Levin 
reached  his  hotel  between  one  and  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  was  frightened  at  the  thought  of  passing  ten  hours 
alone,  a  prey  to  his  impatience.  The  watchman  who  was  on 
duty  in  the  corridor  lighted  his  candles,  and  was  about  to 
withdraw  when  Levin  stopped  him.  This  fellow  was  called 
Yegor.  Never  before  had  he  paid  any  attention  to  him  ;  but 
he  suddenly  became  aware  that  he  was  a  good,  intelligent 
man,  and,  above  all,  kind-hearted. 

"  Tell  me,  Y£gor,  don't  you  find  it  hard  to  go  without 
your  sleep?" 

"  What  difference  does  it  make?  It  is  our  calling.  We 
have  an  easier  time  in  gentlemen's  houses,  but  less  profit." 

He  found  out  that  Ye"gor  was  the  father  of  a  family  of 
four  children,  — three  boys,  and  a  girl  whom  he  hoped  to  marry 
to  a  harness-maker's  clerk. 

At  the  announcement  of  this  plan,  Levin  communicated 
his  ideas  about  love  in  marriage  to  Ye"gor,  remarking  that 
people  are  always  happy  where  there  is  love,  because  their 
happiness  is  in  themselves.  Y4gor  listened  attentively,  and 
evidently  understood  Levin's  meaning ;  but  he  confirmed  it 


410  ANNA   KARlSNINA. 

by  an  unexpected  reflection,  —  that  when  he,  Ye"gor,  had 
served  good  masters,  he  had  always  been  satisfied  with 
them,  and  that  he  was  contented  with  his  master  now,  al- 
though he  was  a  Frenchman. 

'"  What  an  excellent  fellow  !  "  thought  Levin.  "JV«/  and 
did  you  love  your  wife,  Yegor,  when  you  married  her?  " 

'•  Why  shouldn't  I  love  her?  "  replied  Yegor.  And  Levin 
noticed  how  eager  Yegor  was  to  confide  to  him  his  inmost 
thoughts. 

'•  My  life,  too,  has  been  an  extraordinary  one,"  he  began, 
his  eyes  shining,  overcome  by  Levin's  enthusiasm  as  one  is 
overcome  by  the  contagion  of  yawning.  "  From  my  child- 
hood " —  But  the  bell  rang:  Yegor  departed,  and  Levin 
was  left  alone. 

Although  he  had  eaten  scarcely  any  thing  at  dinner, 
although  he  had  refused  to  take  any  tea  or  supper  at  Sviazh- 
sky's,  still  he  couldn't  eat;  and  although  he  hadn't  slept 
the  preceding  night,  he  didn't  think  of  sleeping  now.  He 
couldn't  breathe  in  his  room  ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  cold,  he 
opened  a  window,  and  seated  himself  on  a  table  in  front  of 
it.  Above  the  roofs  covered  with  snow  rose  the  carved  cross 
of  a  church,  and  higher  still  were  the  constellations  of  the 
Charioteer  and  the  bright  Capella.  While  breathing  the  cold 
air  which  filled  his  room,  he  looked  now  at  the  cross,  now  at 
the  stars,  rising  as  in  a  dream  among  the  figures  and  memo- 
ries called  up  by  his  imagination. 

Towards  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  footsteps  were  heard 
in  the  corridor :  he  opened  his  door,  and  saw  a  gambler  re- 
turning from  his  club.  It  was  a  man  named  Miaskin,  whom 
Levin  knew.  He  walked  along,  coughing,  gloomy,  and 
scowling.  "Poor,  unfortunate  fellow!"  thought  Levin, 
whose  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  pity.  He  wanted  to  stop  him, 
to  speak  to  him,  and  console  him  ;  but,  remembering  that  he 
was  undressed,  he  went  back,  and  sat  down  to  bathe  himself 
in  the  icy  air,  and  to  look  at  the  strangely  formed  cross,  so 
full  of  meaning  to  him  in  the  silence,  and  at  the  beautiful, 
bright  stars  above  it. 

Towards  seven  o'clock  the  men  polishing  the  floors  began 
to  make  a  noise,  the  bells  rang  for  early  morning  service, 
and  Levin  began  to  feel  that  he  was  taking  cold.  He  closed 
the  window,  made  his  toilet,  and  went  out. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  411 


XV. 

THE  streets  were  still  deserted  when  Levin  reached  the 
Shcherbatskys'  house  :  everybody  was  asleep,  and  the  princi- 
pal entrance  was  still  closed.  He  went  back  to  the  hotel,  and 
asked  for  coffee.  It  was  the  day  watchman  who  brought  it 
to  him,  and  not  Yegor.  Levin  wished  to  enter  into  conver- 
sation with  him ;  but,  unfortunately,  somebody  rang,  and  he 
went  out.  He  tried  to  take  his  coffee,  but  was  unable  to  swal- 
low the  piece  of  kalatch  [white-bread]  that  he  put  in  his 
mouth.  Then  he  put  on  his  overcoat  again,  and  returned  to 
the  Shcherbatskys'  house.  It  was  just  ten  o'clock,  and  they 
were  beginning  to  get  up ;  the  cook  was  going  to  market. 
He  must  make  up  his  mind  to  wait  at  least  two  hours  longer. 

Levin  had  passed  the  whole  night  and  the  morning  in  a 
complete  state  of  indifference  to  the  material  conditions  of 
existence  :  he  had  neither  eaten  nor  slept ;  had  been  exposed, 
with  almost  no  clothing,  to  the  cold  for  several  hours ;  and 
he  not  only  was  fresh  and  heart}-,  but  he  felt  freed  from  all 
the  slavery  of  body,  master  of  his  powers,  and  capable  of 
the  most  extraordinary  actions,  such  as  flying  through  the  air 
or  jumping  over  the  top  of  a  house.  He  roamed  about  the 
streets  to  pass  away  the  time,  consulting  his  \vatch  every 
moment  or  two,  and  looking  about  him.  What  he  saw  that 
day  he  never  saw  again.  He  was  particularly  struck  by  the 
children  on  their  way  to  school ;  the  pigeons,  with  ever-chan- 
ging plumage,  flying  from  the  roof  to  the  sidewalk  ;  the  su'ikis 
[little  cakes]  powdered  with  flour  that  an  invisible  hand  was 
arranging  in  a  window.  All  these  things  seemed  extraordi- 
nary. A  child  ran  towards  one  of  the  pigeons,  and  looked  at 
Levin,  smiling  ;  the  pigeon  spread  its  wings,  and  shone  in  the 
sunlight  through  a  cloud  of  fine  snow  ;  and  the  smell  of  hot 
bread  came  through  the  window  where  the  sa'ikis  were  dis- 
played. All  these,  taken  as  a  whole,  produced  so  lively  an 
impression  on  Levin  that  he  began  to  laugh  aloud.  After 
going  around  by  the  Gazetnaia  and  Kislovka  Streets,  he  went 
back  to  the  hotel,  sat  down,  placed  his  watch  before  him,  and 
waited  till  the  hands  pointed  to  the  hour  of  noon.  When  it 
struck  twelve  he  went  on  the  steps  of  the  hotel ;  and  the 
izwshchiks,  with  happy  faces,  surrounded  him,  disputing  as 
to  which  should  offer  his  services.  Evidently  they  knew  all 
about  it.  He  chose  one,  and,  not  to  offend  the  others,  prom- 


412  ANNA 

ised  to  take  them  some  other  time ;  then  he  drove  to  the 
Shclierbatskys'.  The  izvoshcJuk  was  charming,  with  his  white 
shirt-collar  above  his  kaftan  surrounding  his  strong,  red  neck. 
He  had  a  comfortable  sleigh,  more  comfortable  than  ordinary 
sleighs, — such  a  sleigh  as  Levin  had  never  seen  before, — 
drawn  by  a  good  horse,  who  did  his  best  to  run,  without 
making  the  least  progress.  The  izvoshchik  knew  the  Shcher- 
batsky  house :  he  stopped  before  the  door,  flourishing  his 
arms,  and  turned  respectfully  towards  Levin,  saying  "  Whoa  " 
to  his  horse. 

The  Shcherbatskys'  servant  knew  all  about  it,  surely  :  that 
was  plain  from  the  look  in  his  eyes,  and  the  way  he  said,  — 

"  Nu!  it  is  a  long  time  since  3'ou  have  been  here,  Kon- 
stantin  Dmitritch," 

Not  only  did  he  know  what  had  happened,  but  he  was  full 
of  delight,  and  tried  to  conceal  his  joy.  Levin  felt  a  shade 
happier  when  he  caught  the  old  man's  good-natured  eyes. 

"  Are  they  up?  " 

"Please  come  in.  Leave  that  here,"  added  the  Swiss  as 
Levin  was  turning  back  to  get  his  shapka  [fur  cap].  "That 
must  have  some  significance,"  he  thought. 

"  To  whom  shall  I  announce  you,  sir?  "  asked  a  lackey. 

This  lackey,  though  young,  new  in  the  house,  and  with 
some  pretension  to  elegance,  was  very  obliging,  very  atten- 
tive ;  and  he,  too,  seemed  to  understand  the  situation. 

"To  the  princess  —  I  mean  the  prince;  no,  the  young 
princess,"  replied  Levin. 

The  first  person  whom  he  met  was  Mademoiselle  Linon. 
She  was  passing  through  the  hall,  radiant  in  her  little  curls 
and  her  shining  face.  He  had  hardly  spoken  to  her  when  the 
rustling  of  a  dress  was  heard  near  the  door.  Mademoiselle 
Linon  disappeared  from  before  his  eyes,  and  he  was  overcome 
with  the  thought  of  the  happiness  awaiting  him.  Hardly  had 
the  old  governess  hastened  away,  when  little,  light-tripping 
feet  ran  over  the  floor,  and  his  happiness,  his  life,  the  better 
part  of  himself,  that  which  he  yearned  for  so  long,  drew 
near.  She  did  not  walk  :  some  invisible  power  seemed  to 
bring  her  towards  him.  He  saw  only  her  bright,  truthful 
eyes,  filled  with  the  same  timid  joy  that  filled  his  own  heart. 
These  eyes,  shining  nearer  and  nearer  to  him,  almost  blinded 
him  with  their  light  of  love.  She  stood  before  him,  almost 
touching  him  ;  then  she  placed  her  two  hands  gently  on  his 
shoulders ;  and  then  she  gave  herself  to  him,  trembling  and 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  413 

happy.  He  folded  her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  his  lips  to 
hers. 

.She,  too,  after  a  sleepless  night,  had  been  waiting  for  him 
all  the  morning.  Her  parents  were  perfectly  agreed,  and 
happy  in  her  happiness.  She  had  been  on  the  wateh  for  his 
coming.  She  wanted  to  be  the  first  to  tell  him  of  their  happi- 
ness. Shy  and  confused,  she  hardly  knew  how  to  carry  out 
her  plan.  She  heard  his  steps  and  voice,  and  hid  herself 
behind  the  door  to  wait  till  Mademoiselle  Linon  had  gone. 
Then,  without  questioning  further,  she  came  to  him. 

"  Now,  let  us  find  mamma,"  said  she,  taking  his  hand. 

For  a  long  time  he  could  not  utter  a  word,  because  not 
only  was  he  afraid  of  lessening  the  intensity  of  his  joy  by 
words,  but  because  his  tears  choked  him.  He  took  her  by 
the  hand,  and  kissed  her. 

"  Is  it  really  true?  "  he  said  at  last  in  a  husky  voice.  "  I 
cannot  believe  that  you  love  me." 

She  smiled  at  his  tui  and  at  the  timidity  with  which  he 
looked  at  her. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  slowly  lingering  on  this  word.  "I 
am  so  happy  ! ' ' 

Without  letting  go  his  hand,  she  went  with  him  into  the 
drawing-room.  As  soon  as  the  princess  saw  them,  she 
almost  went  into  hysterics ;  then,  running  to  Levin  with  a 
sudden  energy,  she  seized  his  head,  and  kissed  him,  bedew- 
ing his  face  with  her  tears. 

"So  all  is  settled?  I  am  delighted.  Love  her.  I  am 
so  glad  —  for  you  —  Kitty  !  " 

"  It  didn't  take  you  long  to  arrange  matters,"  said  the  old 
prince,  trying  to  appear  calm ;  but  Levin  saw  his  eyes  fill 
with  tears. 

"  It  is  something  I  have  long  been  anxious  for,"  said  the 
prince,  drawing  Levin  towards  him.  "And  when  this  little 
goose  thought " — 

"  Papa ! "  cried  Kitty,  putttog  her  hand  over  his  mouth. 

"  Nu!  Very  well,  very  well,  I  won't  say  any  thing,"  said 
he.  "I  am  very  — very  —  hap  —  Ach  !  how  stupid  I  am  ! " 

And  he  took  Kitty  in  his  arms,  kissed  her  face,  her  hands, 
and  then  her  face  again,  blessing  her  with  the  sign  of  the 
cross. 

Levin  felt  a  new  and  strange  affection  for  the  old  prince 
when  he  saw  how  tenderly  and  fervently  Kitty  kissed  his 
great,  strong  hand. 


414  ANNA  KAEfiNINA. 


XVI. 

THE  princess  was  sitting  in  her  easy-chair,  silent  and 
beaming  ;  the  prince  was  sitting  beside  her  ;  Kitty  was  stand- 
ing near  her  father,  holding  his  hand.  Everybody  was  silent. 

The  princess  was  the  first  to  bring  their  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings back  to  the  affairs  of  real  life ;  and  the  transition  gave 
each  of  them,  for  a  moment,  a  strange  and  painful  impression. 

"When  shall  the  wedding  be?  We  must  announce  the 
marriage,  and  have  them  betrothed.  What  do  you  think 
about  it,  Aleksandr?" 

"  There  is  the  person  most  interested  :  let  him  decide  it," 
said  the  prince,  pointing  to  Levin. 

"When?"  replied  the  latter,  blushing.  "To-morrow,  if 
you  wish  my  opinion  ;  to-day,  the  betrothal ;  to-morrow,  the 
wedding." 

"  Nul    Come,  now,  mon  cher,  no  nonsense." 

"  Well,  in  a  week,  then." 

"  One  would  really  suppose  that  you  had  lost  your 
senses." 

"But  why  not?" 

"  And  the  trousseau?  "  said  the  mother,  smiling  gayly  at 
his  impatience. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  a  trousseau  and  all  the  rest  are  indis- 
pensable?" thought  Levin,  with  alarm.  "  After  all,  neither 
the  trousseau,  nor  the  betrothal,  nor  any  thing  else,  can  spoil 
my  happiness!  "  He  looked  at  Kitty,  and  noticed  that  the 
idea  of  the  trousseau  did  not  offend  her  at  all.  "  It  must  be 
very  necessary,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  admit  that  I  know 
nothing  about  it.  I  have  merely  expressed  my  desire,"  said 
he,  excusing  himself. 

"  We  will  consider  the  matter :  now  we  will  have  the  be- 
trothal, and  announce  the  marriage." 

The  princess  stepped  up  to 'her  husband,  kissed  him,  and 
was  about  to  move  away  again ;  but  he  held  her,  and  kissed 
her  again  and  again,  like  a  young  lover.  The  two  old  peo- 
ple seemed  agitated,  and  ready  to  believe  that  it  was  not 
their  daughter  who  was  to  be  married,  but  themselves. 

When  they  had  gone  out,  Levin  approached  his  fiancee, 
and  took  her  hand  ;  he  had  regained  his  self-possession,  and 
could  speak ;  he  had  many  other  things  on  his  mind  to  tell 
her,  but  he  did  not  say  at  all  what  he  intended  to  say. 


ANNA   KAEtiNINA.  415 

' '  I  knew  that  it  would  be  like  this  :  at  the  bottom  of  my 
heart  I  was  sure  of  it,  without  ever  daring  to  hope.  I  believe 
that  it  was  predestined." 

"And  I,"  replied  Kitty,  "even  when,"  —  she  hesitated, 
then  continued,  looking  at  -him  resolutely  out  of  her  sincere 
eyes,  —  "  even  when  I  rejected  my  happiness.  I  never  loved 
anybody  but  you  :  I  was  led  away.  I  must  ask  you,  can  you 
forget  it?" 

"  Perhaps  it  was  best  that  it  should  be  so.  You,  too,  will 
have  to  pardon  me,  for  I  must  confess  to  you." 

This  was  one  of  the  things  that  he  had  on  his  mind  to 
tell  her.  He  had  decided  to  confess  every  thing  to  her,  from 
his  earliest  life,  — first,  that  he  was  not  as  pure  as  she,  and 
then  that  he  was  not  a  believer.  He  thought  it  his  duty  to 
make  these  confessions  to  her,  however  cruel  they  might  be. 

"  No,  not  now  ;  later,"  he  added. 

"  But  tell  me  every  thing.  I  am  not  afraid  of  any  thing. 
I  want  to  know  all,  every  thing  " — 

"  Every  thing  is,"  he  interrupted,  "  that  you  take  me  just 
as  I  am  :  you  do  not  take  back  your  word  !  " 

"  No,  oh,  no  !  " 

Their  conversation  was  interrupted  by  Mademoiselle  Linon, 
who,  trying  to  look  properly  serious,  came  to  congratulate 
her  favorite  pupil :  she  had  not  left  the  drawing-room,  before 
the  servants  wished  to  offer  their  congratulations.  The  rela- 
tives and  friends  came  next ;  and  this  was  the  beginning  of 
that  absurdly  happ}*  period,  from  which  Levin  was  not  free 
till  the  day  after  his  marriage. 

Although  he  always  felt  constrained  and  ill  at  ease,  this 
strain  of  mind  did  not  prevent  his  happiness  from  increas- 
ing ;  he  imagined  that  if  the  time  preceding  his  marriage 
passed  exactly  in  accordance  with  the  usual  customs,  his  joy 
would  suffer ;  but  although  he  did  exactly  as  everybody  else 
did  in  such  cases,  his  happiness,  inste.ad  of  diminishing,  knew 
no  bounds. 

"  Now,"  said  Mademoiselle  Linon,  "  we  shall  have  all  the 
bonbons  we  wish  for ;  "  and  Levin  ran  to  buy  bonbons, 

"Nu.f  very  glad!  I  advise  you  to  get  your  bouquets  at 
Famin's,"  said  Sviazhsky. 

"  Do  you?  "  said  Levin  ;  and  he  went  to  Famin's. 

His  brother  advised  him  to  borrow  money,  because  there 
would  be  many  expenses  for  presents  and  other  necessities 
of  the  hour. 


416  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

"  For  presents?  Really?  "  and  he  started  off  on  the  run 
to  buy  jewellery  at  Fulda's. 

At  the  confectioner's,  at  Famin's,  at  Fulda's,  everybody 
seemed  to  expect  him,  and  everybody  seemed  happy  and 
triumphant,  like  himself  :  strange  as  it  may  seem,  his  enthu- 
siasm was  shared  by  even  those  who  before  had  seemed  cold 
and  indifferent ;  people  approved  of  him  in  every  way,  they 
treated  his  feelings  with  delicacy  and  gentleness,  they  shared 
his  conviction  that  he  was  the  happiest  man  in  the  world, 
because  his  fiancee  was  the  pink  of  perfection  :  and  Kitty  was 
impressed  in  the  same  way. 

When  the  Countess  Nordstone  alluded  to  the  more  brilliant 
hopes  that  she  had  conceived  for  her  friend,  Kitty  became 
angry,  and  declared  so  vehemently  that  it  would  have  been 
impossible  for  her  to  prefer  anybody  to  Levin,  that  the 
countess  was  convinced  that  she  was  right.  From  that  time 
she  never  met  Kitty  with  her  lover  without  smiling  enthusi- 
astically, though  she  did  not  approve  of  Levin. 

A  painful,  a  very  painful,  incident  happened  at  this  period. 
It  concerned  the  confession  which  he  had  promised.  He  had 
consulted  the  old  prince.  Acting  on  his  advice,  Levin  gave 
Kitty  a  journal  containing  his  confessions,  written  purposely 
to  show  to  the  one  whom  he  should  marry.  Of  the  two 
delicate  points  with  which  it  was  concerned,  the  one  which 
passed  almost  unnoticed  was  his  unbelief.  She  was  a 
Christian  herself,  and  incapable  of  doubting  her  religion,  but 
her  lover's  lack  of  piety  was  a  matter  of  indifference  to 
Kitty :  this  heart  that  love  had  made  her  acquainted  with, 
contained  all  that  she  needed  to  find  there  ;  it  was  of  little 
importance  to  her  that  he  termed  the  state  of  his  soul  incre- 
dulity. But  the  second  acknowledgment  caused  her  to  shed 
bitter  tears. 

Levin  had  a  great  struggle  with  himself  before  he  decided 
to  make  this  confession :  he  was  resolved  to  make  it  because 
he  wished  to  have  no  secrets  between  them,  but  he  did  not 
realize  what  an  effect  it  would  have  on  a  young  girl.  The 
abyss  which  separated  his  miserable  past  from  her  dovelike 
purity  became  plain  to  him  when,  as  he  entered  Kitty's 
room  one  evening  before  going  to  the  theatre,  he  saw  her 
lovely  face  bathed  in  tears  :  he  understood  then  the  irrepar- 
able harm  he  had  done,  and  he  was  filled  with  alarm. 

"Take  back  these  terrible  papers!"  she  said,  pushing 
away  the  sheets  lying  on  the  table.  "  Why  did  you  give 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  417 

them  to  me?  However,  perhaps  it  was  for  the  best,"  she 
added,  seized  with  pity  at  the  sight  of  Levin's  despairing 
face.  "  But  it  is  terrible,  terrible  !  " 

He  hung  his  head,  unable  to  say  a  word  in  reply. 

''You  will  not  forgive  me  !  "  he  murmured. 

"  Yes,  I  have  forgiven  you  ;  but  it  is  terrible  !  " 

This  incident,  however,  only  served  to  add  a  shade  more 
to  his  immense  joy.  He  understood  the  worth  of  it  still 
better  after  this  pardon. 

XVII. 

WHEN  he  returned  to  his  lonely  room,  Alekse"i  Aleksan- 
drovitch  involuntarily  recalled,  little  by  little,  the  conversa- 
tions that  had  taken  place  at  the  dinner  and  in  the  evening. 
Dolly's  words  had  only  succeeded  in  arousing  his  vexation. 
His  situation  was  too  difficult  to  allow  him  to  apply  the  pre- 
cepts of  the  New  Testament :  besides,  he  had  already  con- 
sidered this  question,  and  decided  it  in  the  negative.  Of  all 
that  had  been  said  that  day,  the  remark  of  that  honest  fool 
Turovtsuin  had  made  tne  liveliest  impression  on  his  mind  :  — 

"  He  did  bravely,  for  he  challenged  his  rival,  and  killed 
him." 

Evidently  this  conduct  was  approved  by  all ;  and  if  they 
had  not  said  so  openly,  it  was  out  of  pure  politeness. 

"But  what  good  would  it  do  to  think  about  it?  Had  he 
not  resolved  what  to  do?"  And  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 
gave  no  more  thought  to  any  thing  except  the  preparations 
for  his  departure,  and  his  tour  of  inspection. 

He  took  a  cup  of  tea,  opened  a  railway  guide  and  looked 
for  the  departure  of  trains,  to  arrange  for  his  journey. 

At  this  moment  the  servant  brought  him  two  despatches. 
Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch  opened  them  :  the  first  announced 
the  nomination  of  Stremof  to  the  place  for  which  he  had 
been  ambitious.  Kare'nin  threw  down  the  telegram,  and 
began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  room.  "  Quos  vult  perdere 
Jujnter  dementat,"  said  he,  applying  quos  to  all  those  who 
had  taken  part  in  this  nomination.  He  was  less  disturbed 
by  the  fact  that  he  himself  had  not  been  nominated,  than  to 
see  Stremof,  that  babbler,  that  speechifier,  filling  the  place. 
Couldn't  they  understand  that  they  were  ruining  themselves, 
that  they  were  destroying  their  prestige,  by  such  a  choice? 

"  Some  more  news  of  the  same  sort,"  he  thought  with 


418  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

bitterness  as  he  opened  the  second  telegram.  It  was  from 
his  wife  :  her  name,  "  Anna,"  in  blue  pencil,  stood  out  before 
his  eyes. 

"  I  am  dying.  I  beg  you  to  come  :  I  shall  die  easier  if  I 
have  your  forgiveness." 

He  read  these  words  with  scorn,  and  threw  the  paper  on 
the  floor.  "Some  new  scheme,"  was  his  first  thought. 
"  There  is  no  deceitfulness  of  which-  she  is  not  capable.  She 
must  be  on  the  eve  of  her  confinement,  and  there  is  some- 
thing amiss.  But  what  can  be  her  object?  To  compromise 
me  ?  to  prevent  the  divorce  ?  The  despatch  says,  '  I  am 
dying.' '  He  re-read  the  telegram,  and  suddenly  realized 
its  full  meaning.  "If  it  were  true,  —  if  the  suffering,  the 
approach  of  death,  had  caused  her  to  repent  sincerely,  and  if 
I  should  call  this  pretence,  and  refuse  to  go  to  her,  that  would 
not  only  be  cruel,  but  foolish,  and  all  would  blame  me." 

"  Piotr,  order  a  carriage  :  I  am  going  to  Petersburg !  "  he 
cried  to  the  servant. 

Karenin  decided  to  go  to  his  wife,  and  be  ready  to  return 
at  once  if  her  illness  was  a  pretence  :  on  the  other  hand, 
if  she  were  really  repentant,  and  wanted  to  see  him  before 
she  died,  he  would  forgive  her ;  and,  if  he  reached  her  too 
late,  he  could  at  least  pay  his  last  respects  to  her. 

Having  made  up  his  mind  to  do  this,  he  gave  it  no  more 
thought  during  the  journey.  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch,  tired 
and  dusty  with  his  night  of  travelling,  reached  Petersburg  in 
the  early  morning.  He  crossed  the  still  deserted  Xevsky  Per- 
spective, looking  straight  before  him  through  the  morning 
mist,  without  wishing  to  think  of  what  was  awaiting  him 
at  home.  He  did  not  wish  to  think  about  it,  because  he 
couldn't  help  feeling  that  his  wife's  death  would  put  a 
speedy  end  to  all  difficulties  of  his  situation.  The  bakers, 
the  night  izvoshchiks,  the  dvorniks  sweeping  the  sidewalks, 
the  closed  shops,  —  all  passed  like  a  flash  before  his  eyes ; 
he  noticed  every  thing,  and  tried  to  stifle  the  hope  that  he 
reproached  himself  for  entertaining.  When  he  reached  his 
house  he  saw  an  izvoshchik,  and  a  carnage  with  a  coachman 
asleep,  standing  before  the  door.  On  the  steps  Aleks^i 
Aleksandrovitch  made  another  effort  to  come  to  a  decision, 
wrested,  it  seemed  to  him,  from  the  most  hidden  recess  of 
his  brain,  and  which  was  something  like  this  :  "If  she  has 
deceived  me,  I  will  be  calm,  and  go  away  again  ;  but  if  she 
has  told  the  truth,  I  will  do  what  is  proper." 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  419 

The  Swiss  opened  the  door  even  before  Kar^nin  rang  the 
bell ;  the  Swiss  presented  a  strange  appearance,  without  any 
necktie,  dressed  in  an  old  coat  and  slippers. 

"  How  is  the  baruina?  " 

"  She  is  as  comfortable  as  could  be  expected." 

Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch  turned  very  pale :  he  realized 
how  deeply  he  had  hoped  for  her  death. 

Kornei,  the  servant  in  morning-dress,  came  quickly  down 
the  stairs. 

"  Madame  is  very  low,"  he  said.  "  There  was  a  consul- 
tation yesterday,  and  the  doctor  is  here  now." 

"  Take  my  things,"  said  Aleks^i  Aleksandrovitch,  a  little 
comforted  to  learn  that  all  hope  of  death  was  not  lost ;  and 
he  went  into  the  reception-room. 

A  uniform  overcoat  hung  in  the  hall.  Aleks£i  Aleksandro- 
vitch noticed  it,  and  asked,  — 

"Who  is  here?" 

"  The  doctor,  the  nurse,  and  Count  Vronsky." 

Kar6nin  went  into  the  drawing-room.  There  was  nobody 
there  ;  but  the  sound  of  his  steps  brought  the  nurse,  in  a  cap 
with  lilac  ribbons,  out  of  the  boudoir.  She  came  to  Aleks£i 
Aleksandrovitch,  and,  taking  him  by  the  hand  with  the 
familiarity  that  the  approach  of  death  permits,  led  him  into 
the  sleeping-room. 

"  Thank  the  Lord  that  you  have  come  !  She  talks  of  noth- 
ing but  you  ;  always  of  you,"  she  said. 

"Bring  some  ice  quick!"  said  the  imperative  voice  of 
the  doctor  from  the  chamber. 

In  the  boudoir,  sitting  on  a  little  low  chair,  Aleks£i  Alek- 
sandrovitch saw  Vronsky  weeping,  his  face  covered  with  his 
hands.  He  started  at  the  sound  of  the  doctor's  voice,  un- 
covered his  face,  and  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  Kar6- 
niu.  The  sight  of  him  disturbed  him  so  much  that  he  sank 
down  in  his  chair,  as  if  he  wanted  to  disappear  out  of  sight ; 
then,  making  a  great  effort,  he  rose,  and  said,  — 

"  She  is  dying :  the  doctors  say  that  there  is  no  hope.  I 
am  in  your  power.  Only  allow  me  to  remain  here.  I  will 
conform  to  your  wishes  in  every  other  respect.  I  "  — 

When  he  saw  Vronsky  in  tears,  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch 
felt  the  involuntary  tenderness  that  the  sufferings  of  others 
always  caused  him  :  he  turned  away  his  head  without  reply- 
ing, and  went  to  the  door. 

Anna's  voice  could  be  heard  from  the  sleeping-room,  live- 


420  ANNA 

ly,  ga}',  and  articulating  clearly.  Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch 
went  in,  and  approached  her  bed.  Her  face  was  turned  to- 
wards him.  Her  cheeks  were  bright,  her  eyes  brilliant :  her 
little  white  hands,  coining  out  of  the  sleeves  of  her  night- 
dress, were  playing  with  the  corner  of  the  coverlet.  Not 
only  did  she  seem  fresh  and  well,  but  in  the  happiest  frame 
of  mind  :  she  talked  fast  and  loud,  accenting  her  words  with 
precision  and  nicety. 

"  For  Aleksei.  I  am  speaking  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 
—  strange,  isn't  it,  and  cruel,  that  both  should  be  named 
Aleksei  ?  Aleksei  would  not  have  refused  me :  I  should 
have  forgotten.  He  would  have  forgiven —  Da!  why  does 
he  not  come?  He  is  good:  he  himself  does  not  know  how 
good  he  is.  Aclil  Bozhe  mo'i!  what  agony  !  Give  me  some 
water,  quick !  Ach !  but  that  is  not  good  for  her,  —  my 
little  daughter.  Nu!  then  very  well:  give  her  to  the  nurse. 
I  am  willing :  that  will  be  even  better.  Nu!  when  he  comes, 
she  will  be  hateful  in  his  sight;  take  her  away." 

"  Anna  Arkadyevna,  he  has  come ;  here  he  is,"  said  the 
nurse,  trying  to  draw  her  attention  to  Aleksei  Aleksaudro- 
vitch. 

"Acli!  what  nonsense!"  continued  Anna,  without  see- 
ing her  husband.  "Da!  give  the  little  one  to  me.  give 
her  to  me  !  He  hasn't  come  yet.  You  pretend  that  he  will 
not  forgive  me,  because  you  do  not  know  him.  Nobody 
knows  him.  I  alone —  His  eyes,  one  must  know  them. 
Serozha's  are  very  like  them  :  that  is  why  I  can  no  longer 
look  at  them.  Has  Serozha  had  his  dinner?  I  know  he  will  be 
forgotten.  Oh,  do  not  forget  him  !  Let  Serozha  be  brought 
into  the  corner-chamber,  and  let  Mariette  sleep  near  him." 

Suddenly  she  was  silent:  she  looked  frightened,  and  raised 
her  arms  above  her  head  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow.  She  had 
recognized  her  husband. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  quickly,  "  I  am  not  afraid  of  him : 
I  am  afraid  of  dying.  Aleksei,  come  here.  I  am  in  a 
hurry,  because  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  I  have  only  a  few 
minutes  to  live :  the  fever  will  be  upon  me  again,  and  I 
shall  know  nothing  more.  Now  I  am  conscious :  I  under- 
stand every  thing  and  I  see  every  thing." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 's  wrinkled  face  expressed  acute 
suffering :  he  wanted  to  speak,  but  his  lower  lip  trembled  so 
that  he  could  not  utter  a  word,  and  his  emotion  hardly 
allowed  him  to  glance  at  the  dying  woman.  He  took  her 


ANNA  KAKtiNINA.  421 

hand,  and  held  it  between  his  own.  Every  time  that  he  turned 
his  head  towards  her,  he  saw  her  eyes  fixed  on  him  with  a 
sweetness  and  a  humility  that  he  had  never  seen  there  before. 

"  Wait !  you  do  not  know  —  Wait,  wait !  "  She  stopped 
to  collect  her  thoughts.  "Yes,"  she  began  again,  ".yes, 
yes,  yes,  this  is  what  I  want  to  say.  Do  not  be  astonished. 
I  am  always  the  same,  but  there  is  another  being  within 
me,  whom  I  fear:  it  is  she  who  loved  him,  him,  and  hated 
you  ;  and  I  could  not  forget  what  I  had  once  been.  Now  I 
am  myself,  entirely,  really  myself,  and  not  another.  I  am 
dying,  I  know  that  I  am  dying :  ask  him  if  I  am  not.  I  feel 
it  now  ;  there  are  those  terrible  weights  on  my  hand  and  my 
feet  and  on  my  fingers.  My  fingers !  they  are  enormous ; 
but  all  that  will  soon  be  over.  One  thing  only  is  indispen- 
sable to  me  :  forgive  me,  forgive  me  wholly  !  I  am  a  sinner  ; 
but  Serozha's  nurse  told  me  that  there  was  a  holy  martyr  — 
what  was  her  name? —  who  was  worse  than  I.  I  will  go  to 
Rome  :  there  is  a  desert  there.  I  shall  not  trouble  anybody 
there.  I  will  only  take  Serozha  and  my  little  daughter. 
No,  you  cannot  forgive  me :  I  know  very  well  that  it  is  im- 
possible. Go  away,  go  away  !  you  are  too  perfect!  " 

She  held  him  with  one  of  her  burning  hands,  and  pushed 
him  away  with  the  other. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's  emotion  became  so  great  that 
he  could  no  longer  control  himself.  He  suddenly  felt  his 
emotions  change  to  a  moral  reconciliation,  which  seemed  like 
a  new  and  unknown  happiness.  He  had  not  believed  that 
the  Christian  law,  which  he  had  taken  for  a  guide  in  life, 
ordered  him  to  forgive  and  love  his  enemies  ;  and  yet  his  soul 
was  filled  with  love  and  forgiveness.  Kneeling  beside  the 
bed,  he  laid  his  forehead  on  her  arm,  the  fever  of  which 
burned  through  the  sleeve,  and  sobbed  like  a  child.  She 
bent  towards  him,  placed  her  arm  around  her  husband's  bald 
head,  and  raised  her  eyes  defiantly. 

"  There,  I  knew  that  it  would  be  so.  Now  farewell,  fare- 
well to  all !  They  are  coming  back  again.  Why  don't 
they  go  away?  Da!  take  off  all  these  furs  from  me  !  " 

The  doctor  laid  her  back  gently  on  her  pillows,  and  drew 
the  covering  over  her  arms.  Anna  made  no  resistance, 
looking  all  the  while  straight  before  her,  with  shining  eyes. 

"  Remember  that  I  have  only  asked  your  pardon  :  I  ask 
nothing  more.  Why  doesn't,  he  come?"  she  said,  suddenly 
looking  towards  the  door,  towards  Vronsky.  "Come!  come 
here,  and  give  him  your  hand." 


422  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

Vronsky  came  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  and,  when  he  saw 
Anna,  he  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  Uncover  your  face  ;  look  at  him,  he  is  a  saint,"  said  she. 
"  Uncover  your  face  !  look  at  him  !  "  she  repeated  in  an  irri- 
tated manner.  "  Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch,  uncover  his  face  : 
I  want  to  see  him." 

Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch  took  Vronsky's  hands  and  uncov- 
ered his  face,  disfigured  by  suffering  and  humiliation. 

"  Give  him  your  hand  ;  forgive  him." 

Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch  held  out  his  hand  to  him,  without 
trying  to  keep  back  the  tears. 

"  Thank  the  Lord  !  thank  the  Lord!"  said  she;  "now 
every  thing  is  right.  I  will  stretch  out  my  feet  a  little,  like 
that ;  that  is  better.  How  ugly  those  flowers  are  !  they  do  not 
look  like  violets,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  hangings  in  her 
room.  "Bozhe  mo'i!  Bozhe  mo'i!  when  will  this  be  over? 
Give  me  some  morphine,  doctor;  some  morphine.  Bozhe 
mo'i!  Bozhe  moll  "  And  she  tossed  about  on  the  bed. 

The  doctors  said  that  in  this  fever  there  was  not  one 
chance  in  a  hundred  of  her  living.  She  passed  the  day  de- 
lirious and  unconscious.  Towards  midnight  her  pulse 
became  very  low :  the  end  was  expected  every  moment. 

Vronsky  went  home,  but  he  came  back  the  next  morning 
to  learn  how  she  was.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  came  to 
meet  him  in  the  reception-room,  and  said  to  him,  "  Stay  here  : 
perhaps  she  will  ask  for  you."  Then  he  took  him  to  his  wife's 
boudoir  himself.  In  the  morning  the  restlessness,  the  rapid- 
ity of  thought  and  speech,  returned  ;  but  soon  unconscious- 
ness intervened  again.  The  third  day  was  much  the  same, 
and  the  doctors  began  to  hope.  On  this  day  Aleks6i  Alek- 
sandrovitch went  into  the  boudoir  where  Vronsky  was,  closed 
the  door,  and  sat  down  in  front  of  him. 

"  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,"  said  Vronsky,  feeling  that  an 
explanation  was  to  be  made,  "  I  cannot  speak,  I  cannot  think. 
Have  pity  on  me  !  Whatever  may  be  your  suffering,  believe 
that  mine  is  still  more  terrible." 

He  was  going  to  rise  ;  but  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  pre- 
vented him,  and  said,  "Pray  listen  to  me  :  it  is  unavoidable. 
I  am  forced  to  explain  to  you  the  feelings  that  guide  me,  and 
will  continue  to  guide  me,  that  you  may  avoid  making  any 
mistake  in  regard  to  me.  You  know  that  I  had  decided  on 
a  divorce,  and  that  I  had  taken  the  preliminary  steps  to  ob- 


ANNA  K A  It/: NINA.  423 

tain  one?  "  I  will  not  deny  that  at  first  I  was  undecided,  I 
was  in  torment.  I  confess  that  I  wanted  to  avenge  myself. 
When  I  received  the  telegram,  and  came  home,  I  felt  the  same 
desire.  I  will  say  more  :  I  hoped  that  she  would  die.  But ' '  — 
he  was  silent  for  a  moment,  considering  whether  he  would 
wholly  reveal  his  thoughts  —  "•  but  I  have  seen  her:  I  have 
forgiven  her  absolutely.  The  happiness  I  feel  at  being  able 
to  forgive,  clearly  shows  me  my  duty.  I  offer  the  other 
cheek  to  the  smiter :  I  give  my  last  cloak  to  him  who  has 
robbed  me.  I  only  ask  one  thing  of  God,  —  that  he  will  not 
take  awa}r  from  me  this  joy  of  forgiving." 

Tears  filled  his  eyes.  Vrousky  was  amazed  at  the  calm, 
luminous  face. 

'•  These  are  my  feelings.  You  may  drag  me  in  the  dust, 
and  make  me  the  laughing-stock  of  creation  ;  but  I  will  not 
give  up  Anna  for  that,  nor  will  I  utter  a  word  of  reproach 
to  you,"  continued  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch.  "  My  duty 
seems  clear  and  plain  to  me :  I  must  remain  with  her ;  I 
shall  remain  with  her.  If  she  wishes  to  see  you,  I  shall  in- 
form you  of  it ;  but  now  I  think  it  will  be  better  for  you  to 
go  away." 

Karenin  rose  :  sobs  choked  his  voice.  Yronsky  rose  too, 
and,  standing  with  bowed  head  and  humble  attitude,  looked 
up  at  Karenin,  without  a  word  to  say.  He  was  incapable  of 
understanding  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 's  feelings  ;  but  he  felt 
that  such  magnanimity  was  above  him,  and  irreconcilable  with 
his  conception  of  life. 

XVIII. 

WHEN  Vronsky  left  the  Karenin  house  after  this  interview, 
he  stopped  on  the  steps  to  ask  himself  where  he  was  and 
what  he  had  to  do.  Humiliated  and  perplexed,  he  felt  de- 
prived of  all  means  of  washing  away  his  shame,  —  thrown 
out  of  the  path  where  till  now  he  had  walked  proudly  and 
easily.  All  the  rules  which  had  been  the  guides  of  his  life, 
and  which  he  had  believed  irreproachable,  proved  false  and 
untrue.  The  deceived  husband,  that  melancholy  charac- 
ter whom  he  had  considered  an  accidental  obstacle,  at 
times  absurd,  happily  for  him  had  suddenly  been  raised  by 
her  to  a  height  inspiring  respect;  and,  instead  of  appearing 
ridiculous,  he  had  shown  himself  good,  grand,  and  generous. 
Vronsky  could  not  understand  it :  their  rdles  had  been  inter- 


424  ANNA  KARtfNINA. 

changed.  He  felt  Kar£nin's  grandeur  and  straightforward- 
ness, and  his  own  baseness.  This  deceived  husband  appeared 
magnanimous  in  his  grief,  while  he  himself  seemed  little  and 
miserable.  But  this  feeling  of  inferiority,  in  comparison  to 
a  man  whom  he  had  unjustly  scorned,  was  only  a  small  part 
of  his  grief. 

What  made  him  profoundly  unhappy  was  the  thought  of 
losing  Anna  forever.  His  passion,  though  for  a  time  grown 
cool,  had  awakened  more  violent  than  ever.  During  her  ill- 
ness he  had  learned  to  know  her  better,  and  he  believed  that 
he  had  never  really  loved  her  till  now.  He  must  lose  her 
just  as  he  had  come  to  know  her  and  love  her  truly,  — 
lose  her,  and  be  left  with  the  most  humiliating  recollections. 
He  recalled  with  horror  the  ridiculous  and  odious  moment 
when  Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  had  uncovered  his  face  while 
he  was  hiding  it  in  his  hands.  Standing  motionless  on  the 
steps  of  the  Karenin  house,  he  seemed  to  be  entirely  uncon- 
scious of  what  he  was  doing. 

"  Shall  I  call  an  izvoshchik?"  asked  the  Swiss. 

"Yes,  an  izvoshchik." 

When  he  reached  home,  after  three  nights  without  sleep, 
Vronsky,  without  undressing,  threw  himself  down  on  a  divan, 
crossing  his  arms  above  his  head.  The  strangest  reminis- 
cences, thoughts,  and  impressions  succeeded  each  other  in 
his  mind  with  extraordinary  rapidity  and  clearness.  Now  it 
was  a  drink  that  he  wanted  to  give  the  invalid,  and  he  dropped 
the  spoon  ;  now  he  saw  the  nurse's  white  hands,  then  Alek- 
se"i  Aleksandrovitch's  singular  attitude  as  he  knelt  on  the 
floor  by  the  bed. 

"  Sleep,  and  forget,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  the  calm 
resolution  of  a  man  in  good  health  who  knows  that  he  can 
sleep  at  will  when  he  feels  tired.  His  ideas  became  con- 
fused :  he  felt  himself  falling  into  the  abyss  of  forgetfulness. 
Suddenly,  just  at  the  moment  when  he  was  becoming  uncon- 
scious, as  though  the  waves  of  an  ocean  had  closed  above 
his  head,  a  violent  electric  shock  seemed  to  make  his  body 
bound  on  the  springs  of  the  divan  ;  and  he  found  himself  on 
his  knees,  with  his  eyes  as  wide  open  as  if  he  had  never 
dreamed  of  sleeping,  and  without  any  longer  feeling  in  the 
least  weary. 

"  You  may  drag  me  in  the  dust." 

These  words  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  rang  in  his  ears. 
He  saw  him  standing  before  him  ;  he  saw,  too,  Anna's  feverish 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  425 

face,  and  her  brilliant  eyes  looking  tenderly,  not  at  /urn,  but 
at  her  husband ;  he  saw  his  own  absurd,  ridiculous  face 
when  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  drew  away  his  hauds  from  his 
face :  and  throwing  himself  back  on  the  divan,  and  closing 
his  eyes,  — 

"  Sleep,  and  forget,"  he  repeated  to  himself. 

Then  Anna's  face,  just  as  it  looked  on  that  memorable 
evening  of  the  races,  appeared  still  more  radiant,  although 
her  eyes  were  closed. 

"  It's  impossible,  and  will  not  be ;  how  can  she  efface  that 
from  her  memory  ?  I  cannot  live  like  this  !  How  can  we  be 
reconciled?  " 

He  unconsciously  pronounced  these  words  aloud,  and  their 
mechanical  repetition  prevented  the  recollections  and  forms 
which  besieged  his  brain  from  returning  for  some  minutes. 
But  the  sweet  moments  of  the  past,  and  his  recent  humilia- 
tion, soon  resumed  their  sway.  "Uncover  his  face,"  said 
Anna's  voice.  He  took  away  his  hands,  and  realized  how 
humiliated  and  ridiculous  he  must  have  appeared. 

Vronsky  remained  lying  down,  hopelessly  trying  to  sleep, 
and  repeating  some  formula  to  drive  away  the  new  and  dis- 
tressing hallucinations  which  he  thought  he  could  prevent 
from  arising.  He  listened  to  his  own  voice  repeating,  with  a 
strange  persistence,  "You  did  not  know  how  to  appreciate 
her,  you  did  not  know  how  to  value  her :  you  did  not  know 
how  to  appreciate  her,  .you  did  not  know  how  to  value  her." 

"What  is  going  to  happen  to  me?  Am  I  going  mad?" 
he  asked  himself.  "  Perhaps  so.  Why  do  people  go  mad? 
and  why  do  they  commit  suicide?  "  And,  while  he  was  an- 
swering himself,  he  opened  his  eyes,  surprised  to  see  beside 
him  a  cushion  embroidered  by  his  sister-in-law  Varia.  He 
tried  to  fix  the  thought  of  Varia  in  his  mind  b}"  playing  with 
the  tassel  of  the  cushion,  but  any  idea  foreign  to  what  tor- 
mented him  was  still  more  intolerable.  "  No,  I  must  sleep." 
And,  placing  the  cushion  under  his  head,  he  made  an  effort 
to  keep  his  eyes  closed.  Suddenly  he  was  again  seized  with 
a  shock.  "All  is  over  with  me  ;  what  else  can  I  do?  "  And 
his  imagination  vividly  pictured  what  life  without  Anna  would 
be. 

"Ambition?  Serpukhovskoi?  the  world?  the  court?"  all 
that  once  had  some  meaning,  but  it  had  none  now.  He  rose, 
took  off  his  coat,  loosened  his  necktie  that  he  might  breathe 
more  freely,  and  began  to  stride  up  and  down  the  room. 


426  ANNA  EARlZNINA. 

"  It  is  this  that  makes  people  insane,"  he  repeated,  "that 
causes  suicide,  —  to  avoid  disgrace,"  he  added  slowly. 

He  went  to  the  door  and  closed  it ;  then,  with  a  look  of 
determination,  and  with  his  teeth  set,  he  went  to  the  table, 
took  his  revolver,  examined  it,  loaded  it,  and  stopped  to 
consider.  He  stood  motionless  for  two  minutes,  with  the 
revolver  in  his  hand,  his  head  bowed,  his  mind  bent  appar- 
ently on  a  single  thought.  "  Certainly,"  he  said  to  himself, 
and  this  decision  seemed  to  be  the  logical  result  of  a  sequence 
of  clear  and  exact  ideas  ;  but  in  reality  he  was  continually 
turning  around  in  the  same  circle  of  impressions  that  he  had 
gone  over  for  the  hundredth  time  in  the  last  hour.  "  Cer- 
tainly," he  repeated,  his  thoughts  still  bent  on  these  recol- 
lections of  a  lost  happiness,  of  a  future  become  impossible, 
and  of  a  crushing  shame  ;  and,  holding  the  revolver  to  the 
left  side  of  his  breast,  with  an  unflinching  grip  he  pulled  the 
trigger.  He  did  not  hear  the  slightest  sound  of  the  report, 
but  the  violent  blow  that  he  received  in  the  chest  knocked 
him  over.  He  tried  to  save  himself  by  catching  hold  of  the 
table  :  he  dropped  his  revolver,  tottered,  and  fell  on  the  floor, 
looking  about  him  with  astonishment.  He  could  hardly  rec- 
ognize his  room  :  the  twisted  legs  of  the  table,  the  waste- 
paper  basket,  the  tiger-skin  on  the  floor,  —  all  seemed  strange 
to  him.  The  quick  steps  of  his  servant  running  to  the  draw- 
ing-room obliged  him  to  get  control  of  himself:  he  collected 
his  thoughts  with  an  effort,  and  found  that  he  was  on  the  floor, 
and  that  blood  was  on  his  hands  and  on  the  tiger-skin.  Then 
he  realized  what  he  had  done. 

"What  stupidity!  I  have  made  a  fool  of  myself,"  he 
muttered,  feeling  round  for  his  pistol.  It  was  quite  near 
him,  and  he  began  to  reload  it,  but  in  doing  so  he  lost  his 
balance,  and  fell  again,  bathed  in  his  own  blood. 

The  valet  de  chambre,  an  elegant  person  with  side-whiskers, 
who  complained  freely  to  his  friends  about  his  delicate 
nerves,  was  so  frightened  at  the  sight  of  his  master,  that  he 
let  him  lie,  and  ran  for  help. 

In  an  hour  Varia,  Vronsky's  sister-in-law,  arrived,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  three  doctors  whom  she  sent  for  in  all 
directions,  and  who  all  came  at  once  ;  and  with  this  assistance 
she  succeeded  in  putting  the  wounded  man  to  bed,  and 
established  herself  as  his  nurse. 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  427 


XIX. 

ALEKSKI  ALEKSAXDROVTTCH  had  not  foreseen  what  would 
happen  if  his  wife  should  recover  after  she  had  obtained  his 
pardon.  This  mistake  appeared  to  him  in  all  its  seriousness 
two  months  after  his  return  from  Moscow  ;  but  if  he  had 
made  a  mistake,  it  was  not  alone  because  he  had  not  fore- 
seen this  eventuality,  but  also  because  he  had  not  understood 
his  heart  till  then.  Beside  the  bed  of  his  dying  wife,  he  had 
given  way,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  to  that  feeling  of  pity 
for  the  griefs  of  others,  against  which  he  had  always  fought 
as  one  fights  against  a  dangerous  weakness.  Remorse  at  hav- 
ing wished  for  Anna's  death,  the  pity  with  which  she  inspired 
him,  but  above  all  the  joy  of  forgiving,  had  transformed 
AlekseM  Aleksandrovitch's  moral  anguish  to  a  deep  peace, 
and  changed  a  source  of  suffering  to  a  source  of  joy.  All 
the  difficulties  that  he  had  thought  insoluble  when  he  was 
filled  with  hatred  and  anger,  became  clear  and  simple  now 
that  he  loved  and  forgave. 

He  had  pardoned  his  wife,  and  he  pitied  her.  He  had 
forgiven  Vronsky,  and  since  his  despair  he  pitied  him  too. 
He  pitied  his  son  more  than  before,  because  he  felt  that  he 
had  neglected  him.  But  what  he  felt  for  the  new-born  child 
was  more  than  pity,  it  was  almost  tenderness.  Seeing  this 
poor  little  weak  being  neglected  during  its  mother's  illness, 
he  looked  after  it,  prevented  it  from  dying,  and,  before  he 
was  aware  of  it,  became  attached  to  it.  The  nurses  saw  him 
come  several  times  a  day  into  the  nursery,  and,  a  little  intimi- 
dated at  first,  they  gradually  became  accustomed  to  his  pres- 
ence. He  staid  sometimes  for  half  an  hour,  silently  gazing 
at  the  saffron-red,  wrinkled,  downy  face  of  the  sleeping  child, 
who  was  not  his  own,  following  her  motions  as  she  scowled, 
and  puckered  her  lips,  watching  her  rub  her  eyes  with  the 
back  of  her  little  hands,  with  their  round  fingers.  And  at 
these  moments  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  felt  calm  and  at 
peace  with  himself,  seeing  nothing  abnormal  in  his  situa- 
tion, nothing  that  he  felt  the  need  of  changing. 

However,  as  time  went  on,  he  felt  more  and  more  that  he 
would  not  be  permitted  to  remain  in  this  situation,  which 
seemed  natural  to  him,  and  that  nobody  would  allow  it. 

He  felt,  that,  besides  the  holy  and  spiritual  force  which 
guided  his  soul,  there  was  another  force,  brutal,  all-powerful, 


428  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

which  directed  his  life  in  spite  of  himself,  and  gave  him  no 
peace.  He  felt  that  everybody  was  looking  at  him,  and 
questioning  his  attitude,  not  understanding  it,  and  expecting 
him  to  do  something.  Especially  he  felt  the  unnaturalness 
and  constraint  of  his  relations  with  his  wife. 

When  the  tenderness  caused  by  the  expectation  of  her 
death  had  passed  away,  Aleks^i  Aleksandrovitch  began  to 
notice  how  Anna  feared  him,  how  she  dreaded  his  presence, 
and  did  not  dare  to  look  him  in  the  face  :  she  seemed  to  be 
always  pursued  by  a  thought  she  dared  not  express, — that 
she,  too,  had  a  presentiment  of  the  short  duration  of  their 
present  relations,  and  that,  without  knowing  why,  she  ex- 
pected some  move  from  her  husband. 

Towards  the  end  of  February,  the  little  girl,  who  had  been 
named  Anna  for  her  mother,  was  taken  ill.  Alekse'i  Alek- 
saudrovitch  had  seen  her  one  morning  before  going  to  the 
ministry  meeting,  and  went  to  call  the  physician :  when  he 
returned  at  four  o'clock,  he  noticed  an  Adonis  of  a  lackey,  in 
stock  and  bear-skin,  holding  a  circular  lined  with  white  fur. 

"  Who  is  here?"  he  asked. 

"The  Princess  Yelizavyeta  Fyodorovna  Tverskaia,"  re- 
plied the  lackey. 

All  through  this  painful  period  Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch 
noticed  that  his  society  friends,  especially  the  feminine  por- 
tion, showed  a  very  marked  interest  in  him  and  in  his  wife. 
He  noticed  in  them  all  that  veiled  look  of  amusement  which 
he  saw  in  the  lawyer's  eyes,  and  which  he  now  saw  in  those 
of  the  lackey.  When  people  met  him,  and  inquired  after  his 
health,  they  did  so  with  this  same  half-concealed  hilarity. 
They  all  seemed  delighted,  as  if  they  were  going  to  a  wedding. 

The  presence  of  the  princess  was  not  agreeable  to  Kar6nin  ; 
he  had  never  liked  her,  and  she  called  up  unpleasant  memo- 
ries :  so  he  went  directly  to  the  nursery. 

In  the  first  room,  Serozha,  leaning  on  a  table,  with  his  feet 
in  a  chair,  was  drawing,  and  chattering  merrily.  The  Eng- 
lish governess,  who  had  replaced  the  French  woman  soon 
after  Anna's  illness,  was  sitting  near  the  child,  with  her 
crocheting  in  her  hand :  as  soon  as  she  saw  Kar£nin  come 
in,  she  rose,  made  a  courtesy,  and  put  Serozha's  feet  down. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  caressed  his  son's  head,  answered 
the  governess's  questions  about  his  wife's  health,  and  asked 
what  the  doctor  said  about  baby. 

"  The  doctor  said  nothing  was  out  of  the  way  with  it.  He 
ordered  baths,  sir." 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  429 

"She  is  in  pain,  nevertheless,"  said  Aleks6i  Aleksan- 
drovitch,  hearing  the  child  cry  in  the  next  room. 

"  I  don't  believe,  sir,  that  the  nurse  is  good,"  replied  the 
English  woman  decidedly. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?  " 

"  It  was  the  same  at  the  Countess  Pahl's,  sir.  They  dosed 
the  child  with  medicine,  while  it  was  merely  suffering  from 
hunger,  sir." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  considered  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then  went  into  the  adjoining  room.  The  child  was  cry- 
ing as  she  lay  in  her  nurse's  arms,  with  her  head  thrown 
back,  refusing  the  breast,  and  without  yielding  to  the  blan- 
dishments of  the  two  women  bending  over  her. 

"  Isn't  she  any  better?  "  asked  Aleksei  Aleksandro.vitch. 

"She  is  very  worrisome,"  replied  the  old  nurse  in  an 
undertone. 

"  Miss  Edwards  thinks  that  the  nurse  hasn't  enough 
nourishment  for  her,"  said  he. 

"  I  think  so  too,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch." 

"  Why  haven't  you  said  so?  " 

"  Whom  should  I  say  it  to?  Anna  Arkadyevna  is  still 
ill,"  replied  the  old  nurse  discontentedly. 

The  old  nurse  had  been  in  the  family  a  long  time,  and 
these  simple  words  struck  Kar£uiu  as  an  allusion  to  his 
position. 

The  child  cried  harder  and  harder,  losing  its  breath,  and 
becoming  hoarse.  The  old  nurse  threw  up  her  hands  in 
despair,  took  the  little  one  from  the  3'oung  nurse,  and  rocked 
her  in  order  to  pacify  her. 

"You  must  ask  the  doctor  to  examine  the  young  nurse," 
said  Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch. 

The  young  nurse,  a  healthy  looking  woman  of  fine  appear- 
ance, sprucely  dressed,  who  was  afraid  of  losing  her  position, 
smiled  scornfully,  and  muttered  to  herself,  as  she  fastened 
her  dress,  at  the  idea  of  anybody's  suspecting  that  she  hadn't 
enough  nourishment. 

"  Poor  little  thing  !  "  said  the  old  nurse. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  sat  down  in  a  chair,  sad  and 
crestfallen,  and  followed  the  old  nurse  with  his  eyes  as  she 
walked  up  and  down  with  the  child.  As  soon  as  she  had 
placed  the  baby  in  the  cradle,  and,  having  arranged  the  little 
pillow,  had  moved  away,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  rose,  and 
went  up  to  her  on  tiptoe.  For  a  moment  he  was  silent,  and 


430  ANNA  KAEtiNlNA. 

looked  with  melancholy  face  at  the  little  thing.  But  sud- 
denly a  smile  spread  over  its  face,  and,  still  on  tiptoe,  he  left 
the  room. 

He  went  into  the  dining-room,  rang  the  bell,  and  sent 
for  the  doctor  again.  He  was  displeased  because  his  wife 
seemed  to  take  so  little  interest  in  this  charming  baby,  and 
he  wished  neither  to  go  to  her  room,  nor  to  meet  the  Princess 
Betsy  ;  but  his  wife  might  wonder  why  he  didn't  come  as 
usual :  he  crushed  his  feelings,  and  went  towards  the  door. 
A  thick  carpet  deadened  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  as  he 
approached,  and  he  unintentionally  overheard  the  following 
conversation. 

"If  he  were  rtot  going  away,  I  should  understand  your 
refusal,  and  his  also.  But  your  husband  ought  to  be  above 
that,"  said  Betsy. 

"  It  is  not  for  my  husband's  sake,  but  my  own,  that  I 
don't  wish  it.  So  say  nothing  more  about  it,"  replied 
Anna's  agitated  voice. 

"  Da!  However,  you  can't  help  wanting  to  say  good-by 
to  the  man  who  shot  himself  on  your  account  "  — 

"It  is  for  that  very  reason  that  I  do  not  wish  to  see  him 
again." 

Kardnin,  with  an  expression  of  fear  and  guilt,  stopped,  and 
would  have  gone  away  without  being  heard  ;  but  considering 
that  this  would  lack  dignity,  he  went  on  his  way  coughing : 
the  voices  were  hushed,  and  he  went  into  the  room. 

Anna,  in  a  gray  wrapper,  with  her  dark  hair  cut  short, 
was  sitting  in  a  reclining-chair.  All  her  animation  disap- 
peared, as  usual,  at  the  sight  of  her  husband  ;  she  bowed  her 
head,  and  glanced  uneasily  towards  Betsy  ;  the  latter,  dressed 
in  the  latest  fashion,  with  a  little  hat  perched  on  the  top  of  her 
head,  like  a  cap  over  a  lamp,  in  a  dove-colored  dress,  trimmed 
with  bands  cut  bias  on  the  waist  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
skirt  on  the  other,  was  sitting  beside  Anna.  She  sat  up  as 
straight  as  possible,  and  welcomed  Alekse"!  Aleksandrovitch 
with  a  bow  and  a  sarcastic  smile. 

"Ah!"  she  began,  affecting  surprise,  "I  am  delighted 
to  meet  you  at  home.  You  never  show  yourself  anywhere, 
and  I  haven't  seen  you  since  Anna  was  taken  ill.  I  learned 
of  your  anxiety  from  others.  Da!  you  are  a  wonderful 
husband!"  She  gave  him  a  friendly,  flattering  look,  as 
much  as  to  say  that  she  approved  of  Kareiiiu's  behavior 
towards  his  wife. 


ANNA  KARtfNINA.  431 

Alekse"!  Aleksandrovitch  bowed  coldly,  and,  kissing  his 
wife's  hand,  inquired  how  she  was. 

"  Better,  I  think,"  she  replied,  avoiding  his  look. 

"However,  you  look  feverish,"  he  said,  emphasizing  the 
last  word. 

"  We  have. talked  too  much,"  said  Betsy.  "  It  was  selfish 
on  my  part,  and  I  am  going  now." 

She  rose  ;  but  Anna,  suddenly  flushing,  seized  her  quickly 
by  the  arm. 

"  No,  stay,  I  beg  of  you.  I  must  tell  you,  no,  you,"  — 
she  turned  towards  her  husband,  while  the  color  increased 
on  her  neck  and  brow.  "I  cannot,  nor  do  I  wish  to,  hide 
any  thing  from  you." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  bent  his  head,  and  cracked  his 
knuckles. 

"  Bets3*  has  told  me  that  Count  Vronsky  wishes  to  come  to 
our  house  to  say  good-by  before  he  goes  to  Tashkend." 

She  spoke  rapidly,  without  looking  at  her  husband,  anxious 
to  get  through  with  it.  "I  have  said  that  I  could  not  receive 
him." 

"You  said,  my  dear,  that  it  would  depend  on  Alekse'i 
Aleksandrovitch,"  corrected  Betsy. 

"  Da!  No,  I  cannot  see  him,  and  that  should  not  lead  " — 
she  stopped  suddenly  to  question  her  husband's  face  :  he  was 
not  looking  at  her.  "  In  short,  I  do  not  wish  "  — 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  approached,  and  wanted  to  take 
her  hand. 

Anna's  first  impulse  was  to  withdraw  her  hand  from  her 
husband's  ;  but  she  controlled  herself,  and  pressed  it. 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for  your  confidence," — he 
began  ;  but,  looking  at  the  princess,  he  stopped  speaking. 

What  he  could  easily  and  clearly  decide  when  by  himself, 
became  impossible  in  the  presence  of  Betsy,  who  was  the 
incarnation  of  that  brutal  force,  independent  of  his  will,  but 
which  obliged  him  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  to  renounce  the 
ruling  power  of  his  life,  —  his  love  and  his  generous  feelings. 

"  Nu!  proshclui'ite,  my  treasure,"  said  Betsy,  rising.  She. 
kissed  Anna,  and  went  out.  Kare"nin  accompanied  her. 

"Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,"  said  Betsy,  stopping  in  the 
middle  of  the  boudoir  to  press  his  hand  again,  in  a  significant 
manner,  "  I  know  that  you  are  an  extraordinary,  magnani- 
mous man  ;  and  I  love  her  so  much,  and  esteem  you  so 
highly,  that  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  bit  of  advice,  however 


432  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

disinterested  I  may  be  in  the  matter.  Let  him  come.  Aleksei 
Vronsky  is  the  soul  of  honor,  and  he  is  going  to  Tashkend." 

' '  I  am  very  grateful  to  you  for  your  sympathy  and  y our 
advice,  princess  ;  but  the  question  is,  can  my  wife  see  any- 
body, or  not?  It  is  for  her  to  decide." 

He  spoke  these  words  with  dignity,  raising  his  eyebrows 
as  usual ;  but  he  felt  at  once,  that,  whatever  his  words  had 
been,  dignity  was  inconsistent  with  the  situation.  The  sar- 
castic and  wicked  smile  with  which  Betsy  greeted  his  remark 
proved  it  beyond  a  doubt. 

XX. 

AFTER  taking  leave  of  Betsy,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  re- 
turned to  his  wife  ;  she  was  lying  back  in  her  reclining-chair  ; 
but  hearing  her  husband  return,  she  rose  quickly,  and  looked 
at  him  in  a  frightened  way.  He  saw  that  she  had  been  crying. 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  thee  for  thy  confidence,"  said  he 
gently,  repeating  in  Russian  the  reply  that  he  had  just  made 
in  French  before  Betsy.  When  he  spoke  to  her  in  Russian 
he  used  the  familiar  tui,  and  this  tui  irritated  Anna  in  spite 
of  herself.  "I  am  very  grateful  for  your  decision;  for  I 
agree  with  you,  that,  since  Count  Vronsky  is  going  away, 
there  is  no  necessity  of  his  coming  here  ;  besides  "  — 

"Z>a/  but  as  I  have  decided  it,  why  say  any  more  about 
it?"  interrupted  Anna,  with  an  annoyance  that  she  did  not 
know  how  to  control.  "No  necessity,"  she  thought,  "  for 
a  man  who  has  wished  to  commit  suicide,  to  say  farewell  to 
the  woman  he  loves,  and  who  for  her  part  cannot  live  with- 
out him !" 

She  pressed  her  lips  together,  and  looked  down  at  her 
husband's  hands  with  their  swollen  veins,  as  he  stood  rub- 
bing them  together. 

"  Let  us  not  say  any  more  about  that,"  she  added,  more 
calmly. 

"  I  have  given  you  perfect  freedom  to  decide  this  question, 
•and  I  am  happy  to  see  "  —  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  began 
again. 

';  That  my  desires  are  in  conformity  with  yours,"  finished 
Anna  quickly,  exasperated  to  hear  him  speak  so  slowly,  when 
she  knew  beforehand  what  he  was  going  to  say. 

"  Yes,"  he  affirmed  ;  "  and  the  Princess  Tverskaia  shows 
very  poor  taste  to  meddle  in  family  affairs,  she  of  all  others." 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  433 

'%' I  don't  believe  any  thing  they  say  about  her,"  said 
Anna.  "  I  only  know  that  she  loves  me  sincerely." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  sighed,  and  was  silent.  Anna 
played  nervouslj  with  the  tassels  of  her  wrapper,  and  looked 
at  him  now  and  then,  with  that  feeling  of  physical  repulsion 
which  she  reproached  herself  for,  without  being  able  to 
overcome.  All  that  she  wished  for  at  this  moment,  was  to 
be  rid  of  his  presence. 

"  Ah  !  I  have  just  sent  for  the  doctor,"  said  Karenin. 

"What  for?     I  am  well." 

"  For  the  baby,  she  cries  so  much  :  they  think  that  the 
nurse  hasn't  enough  nourishment  for  her." 

•"  Why  didn't  you  let  me  nurse  her,  when  I  begged  them 
to  let  me  try  ?  In  spite  of  every  thing  [Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch understood  what  she  meant  by  in  spite  of  every  thing'] , 
she  is  a  baby,  and  they  will  kill  her."  She  rang,  and  sent 
for  the  little  one.  "  I  wanted  to  nurse  her,  and  you  wouldn't 
let  me,  and  now  you  blame  me." 

"  I  do  not  blame  you  for  any  thing  "  — 

"  Yes,  you  do  blame  me  !  Acli!  Bozhe  mot!  why  didn't  I 
die!"  She  began  to  sob.  '"Forgive  me:  I  am  nervous  and 
unjust,"  she  said,  trying  to  control  herself.  "  But  go  away." 

"No,  this  state  of  things  cannot  go  on,"  said  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch,  as  he  left  his  wife's  room. 

Never  before  had  he  been  so  convinced  of  the  impossibility 
of  prolonging  such  a  situation  before  the  world :  never  had 
his  wife's  dislike  of  him,  and  the  strength  of  that  mysterious 
force  which  had  taken  possession  of  his  life,  to  rule  it  con- 
trary to  the  needs  of  his  soul,  appeared  to  him  with  such 
evidence. 

The  world  and  his  wife  exacted  something  from  him  that 
he  did  not  fully  understand  ;  but  it  aroused  within  him  feel- 
ings of  hatred,  which  disturbed  his  peace,  and  destroyed  the 
worth  of  his  victory  over  himself.  Anna,  in  his  opinion, 
ought  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  Vronsky  ;  but  if  every- 
body considered  this  impossible,  he  was  ready  to  tolerate 
their  meeting,  on  condition  that  the  children  should  not  be 
disgraced,  nor  his  own  life  disturbed. 

This  was  wretched,  —  less  wretched,  however,  than  to  give 
Anna  o'ver  to  a  shameful  and  hopeless  position,  and  to  de- 
prive himself  of  all  that  he  loved.  But  he  felt  his  powerless- 
ness  in  this  struggle,  and  knew  beforehand  that  he  would 
be  prevented  from  doing  what  seemed  to  him  wise  and  good, 


434  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

and  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  do  what  was  painful  to  him, 
but  necessary  to  be  done. 

XXI. 

BETSY  had  not  left  the  hall  when  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  ap- 
peared on  the  threshold.  He  had  come  from  Eliseef 's,  where 
they  had  just  received  fresh  oysters. 

"  Ah,  princess  !  you  here?  AVhat  a  fortunate  meeting  !  I 
have  just  come  from  your  house." 

"  The  meeting  is  but  for  a  moment :  I  am  going,"  replied 
Betsy,  smiling,  as  she  buttoned  her  gloves. 

"  AVait  just  a  moment,  princess:  allow  me  to  kiss  your 
hand  before  you  put  on  your  glove.  Nothing  pleases  me 
so  much,  in  returning  to  ancient  ways,  as  the  custom  of  kiss- 
ing a  lady's  hand." 

He  took  Betsy's  hand. 

"  When  shall  we  meet  again?  " 

"  You  don't  deserve  to  see  me,"  replied  Betsy,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do  !  for  I  have  become  a  serious  man.  1  not 
only  take  care  of  my  own  affairs,  but  also  other  people's," 
said  he  with  importance. 

"  Ach!  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  replied  Betsy,  knowing 
that  he  referred  to  Anna. 

Going  back  into  the  hall,  they  stood  in  a  corner. 

"  He  is  killing  her,"  she  whispered  with  conviction  :  "  im- 
possible to  "  — 

"I  am  very  glad  that  you  think  so,"  replied  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  shaking  his  head  with  sympathetic  commisera- 
tion. "  That  is  why  I  am  in  Petersburg." 

"  The  whole  town  are  talking  about  it,"  said  she:  "this 
situation  is  intolerable.  She  is  fading  away  before  our  very 
eyes.  He  doesn't  understand  that  she  is  one  of  those  women 
whose  feelings  cannot  be  treated  lightly.  One  of  two  things, 
— either  he  ought  to  take  her  away,  and  act  decidedly,  or  else 
be  divorced.  But  this  is  killing  her." 

"Yes,  yes,  exactly,"  sighed  Oblonsky.  "I  have  come 
for  that ;  that  is  to  say,  not  entirely  for  that.  They  have 
just  made  me  chamberlain  ;  nu  !  had  to  thank  them  ;  but  the 
main  thing  was  to  arrange  this  matter." 

"  Nu  !   may  the  Lord  help  you  !  "  said  Betsy. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  accompanied  the  princess  to  the 
door,  kissed  her  wrist  just  above  her  glove,  where  the  pulse 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  435 

beat,  and  after  paying  her  an  impudent  compliment,  at  which 
she  laughed,  rather  than  take  offence,  he  left  her  to  go  to  his 
sister.  Anna  was  in  tears. 

In  spite  of  his  lively  humor,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  passed 
very  easily  from  the  most  exuberant  gayety  to  the  tone  of 
poetical  tenderness  which  suited  his  sister's  frame  of  mind. 
He  asked  how  she  felt,  and  how  she  had  passed  the  day. 

"  Wretchedly,  very  wretchedly  !  Night  and  day,  the  future 
and  the  past,  all  —  wretched,"  she  replied. 

"  You  see  things  under  a  cloud.  You  must  have  courage ; 
look  life  in  the  face.  It  is  hard,  I  know,  but"  — 

"  I  have  heard  that  some  women  love  those  whom  they 
despise,"  began  Anna  suddenly  ;  "  but  I  hate  him  for  his  gen- 
erosity. I  cannot  live  with  him.  Understand  me,  he  has  a 
physical  effect  on  me  which  drives  me  out  of  my  mind.  I 
cannot  live  with  him!  What  shall  I  do?  I  have  been  un- 
happ}'  before.  I  thought  it  impossible  to  be  more  so,  but 
this  surpasses  all  that  I  could  have  imagined.  Knowing  how 
good  and  perfect  he  is,  and  aware  of  my  inferiority,  can  you 
conceive  of  my  hating  him  nevertheless  ?  There  is  absolutely 
nothing  left  for  me  but  to  "  — she  was  going  to  add  "  die," 
but  her  brother  would  not  let  her  finish. 

"  You  are  ill  and  nervous,  and  you  see  every  thing  exag- 
gerated. There  is  really  nothing  so  very  terrible." 

And  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  smiled  at  her  evident  despair 
without  seeming  rude  ;  his  smile  was  so  full  of  kindness,  and 
an  almost  effeminate  sweetness,  that,  instead  of  irritating,  it 
was  calming  and  soothing ;  his  words  acted  like  oil  of  sweet 
almonds.  Anna  at  once  felt  the  effect. 

"  No,  Stiva,"  said  she,  "  I  am  lost,  lost !  worse  than  lost. 
And  yet,  I  am  not  yet  lost :  I  cannot  still  say  that  all  is  over, 
alas  !  I  feel  the  contrary.  I  seem  like  a  cord  too  tightly 
stretched,  which  must  of  necessity  break.  But  the  end  has 
not  yet  come,  and  it  will  be  terrible." 

"  No,  no :  the  cord  can  be  carefully  loosened.  There  is  no 
difficulty  without  some  way  out  of  it." 

"  I  have  thought  it  over,  and  thought  it  over  again,  and  I 
only  see  one  ' '  — 

He  saw  by  her  look  of  dismay  that  the  one  way  that  she 
meant  was  death,  and  again  he  did  not  allow  her  to  finish. 

"  No ;  listen  to  me  ;  you  cannot  judge  of  your  position  so 
well  as  I.  Let  me  tell  you  frankly  my  opinion."  He  smiled 
again  cautiously,  with  his  almond-oily  smile.  "  I  will  begin 


436  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

at  the  beginning :  you  married  a  man  twenty  years  older  than 
yourself,  and  you  married  without  love,  — or,  at  least,  with- 
out knowing  what  love  was.  It  was  a  mistake,  —  as  well 
admit  it." 

"A  terrible  mistake  !  "  said  Anna. 

"  But,  I  repeat  it,  it  was  an  accomplished  fact.  Let  us 
say  you  then  had  the  misfortune  to  fall  in  love  —  not  with 
your  husband :  that  was  a  misfortune,  but  that,  too,  was  an 
accomplished  fact.  Your  husband  knew  it,  and  forgave 
you."  — After  each  sentence  he  stopped,  as  if  to  give  her 
time  to  reply,  but  she  said  nothing.  —  "  Now,  the  question 
is,  can  you  continue  to  live  with  your  husband?  do  you  wish 
it?  does  he  wish  it?  " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,  nothing." 

"  But  you  3'ourself  have  just  said  that  you  could  no  longer 
endure  "  — 

"  No,  I  did  not  say  so.  I  deny  it.  I  know  nothing.  I 
understand  nothing." 

"Da!  but  allow"  — 

"  You  cannot  understand  it.  I  am  precipitated,  head  first, 
into  an  abyss,  and  I  may  not  save  myself.  I  cannot." 

"  You  will  see  that  we  can  prevent  you  from  falling,  and 
from  being  crushed.  I  understand  you.  I  feel  that  you  are 
not  able  to  express  your  feelings,  your  desires." 

"  I  desire  nothing,  nothing  —  only  to  end  all  this." 

"He  sees  this,  and  knows  it.  Do  you  suppose  that  he 
doesn't  suffer  too?  You  suffer,  he  suffers;  and  what  way 
of  escape  is  there  from  all  this  torture?  A  divorce  would 
settle  every  thing." 

Stepan  Arkad^-evitch  had  not  reached  this  point  without 
difficulty  ;  and,  having  expressed  his  principal  idea,  he  looked 
at  Anna  to  see  what  effect  it  would  have. 

She  shook  her  head  without  replying,  but  her  beautiful 
face  lighted  up  for  a  moment ;  and  he  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion, that,  if  she  did  not  express  her  wishes,  it  was  because 
the  thought  of  their  being  realized  was  too  enticing. 

"I  am  extremely  sorry  for  you!  how  happy  I  should  be 
to  arrange  it  for  you  !  "  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  Don't 
say  a  word  !  If  God  will  only  permit  me  to  express  all  that 
I  feel !  I  am  going  to  find  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch." 

Anna  looked  at  him  out  of  her  brilliant,  thoughtful  eyes, 
and  did  not  reply. 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  437 


XXII. 

STEFAN  ARKADYEVITCH  went  into  his  brother-in-law's  study, 
with  the  solemn  face  which  he  tried  to  assume  when  he  sat 
in  his  official  chair  at  a  council-meeting.  Kareuiu,  with  his 
arms  behind  his  back,  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room, 
considering  the  same  thing  that  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had 
been  discussing  with  his  wife. 

"  Shall  I  disturb  you?  "  asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  sud- 
denly embarrassed  when  he  saw  Kareniu  ;  and  to  conceal 
his  embarrassment,  he  took  a  new  cigar-case  out  of  his 
pocket,  smelt  of  the  leather,  and  took  out  a  cigarette. 

"  No.  Do  you  wish  to  see  me?  "  asked  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch  with  indifference. 

"  Yes  —  1  would  like  —  I  must  —  yes,  I  must  have  a  talk 
with  you,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  surprised  at  his  con- 
fusion. 

This  feeling  was  so  strange  and  unexpected  to  him,  that 
he  did  not  recognize  in  it  the  voice  of  conscience,  warning 
him  that  what  he  hoped  to  do  was  evil.  He  recovered  him- 
self with  an  effort,  and  conquered  the  weakness  which  took 
possession  of  him. 

"  I  want  you,"  he  said,  "  to  believe  in  my  love  for  my 
sister,  and  in  my  sincere  sympathy  and  regard  for  you." 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  listened,  and  made  no  reply  ;  but 
his  face  struck  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  by  its  expression  of 
humility  and  pain. 

"•  I  intended,  I  came  on  purpose,  to  speak  with  you  about 
my  sister,  and  the  situation  in  which  you  and  she  are 
placed." 

Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh  smiled  sadly,  looked  at  his  brother- 
in-law,  and  without  replying  went  to  the  table,  took  up  a 
half-written  letter,  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"  I  can  think  of  nothing  else.  This  is  what  I  began  to 
write,  thinking  that  I  could  express  myself  better  in  a  letter, 
for  my  presence  irritates  her,"  said  he,  giving  him  the  letter. 

Stepan  Arkad3'evitch  took  the  paper,  and  looked  with  sur- 
prise at  his  brother-in-law's  dull  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on 
him  ;  then  he  read,  — 

"  I  know  that  my  presence  is  disagreeable  to  you  :  pain- 
ful as  it  is  for  me  to  recognize  it,  I  know  that  it  is  so,  and  it 
cannot  be  otherwise.  I  do  not  reproach  you.  God  knows, 


438  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

that,  daring  your  illness,  I  resolved  to  forget  the  past,  and  to 
begin  a  new  life.  I  am  not  sorry,  I  never  shall  be  sorry,  for 
what  I  did  then.  I  desired  only  one  thing,  —  your  salvation, 
the  salvation  of  your  soul.  I  have  not  succeeded.  Tell  me 
yourself,  what  will  give  you  peace  and  happiness,  and  I  will 
submit  to  whatever  you  ma}-  deem  just  and  right." 

Oblonsky  gave  the  letter  back  to  his  brother-in-law ;  and 
in  his  perplexity,  he  simply  stared  at  his  brother-in-law,  not 
knowing  what  to  say.  This  silence  was  so  painful,  that 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  lips  trembled  convulsively,  while  he 
did  not  take  his  eyes  from  Karenin's  face. 

"  That  is  what  I  wanted  to  say  to  her,"  said  Aleks6i 
Aleksandrovitch. 

"  Yes,  yes :  I  understand  you,"  he  at  last  stammered  out, 
as  though  tears  choked  his  utterance. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  she  wishes." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  she  herself  does  not  realize  her  own 
situation.  IShe  is  not  a  judge  of  the  matter,"  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  trying  to  recover  himself.  "  She  is  crushed, 
literally  crushed  by  your  generosity  of  soul :  if  she  should 
read  your  letter,  she  would  be  unable  to  say  a  word,  and 
could  only  bow  her  head  still  lower." 

"Da!  But  what  is  to  be  done?  How  can  it  be  settled? 
How  can  I  know  what  she  wishes?  " 

"  If  you  will  allow  me  to  express  my  opinion,  I  think  it 
is  for  you  to  state  clearly  what  measure  you  believe  necessary 
to  put  an  end  to  this  situation  at  once." 

"  Consequently,  you  think  it  ought  to  be  ended  at  once?  " 
interrupted  Karenin.  "But  how?"  he  added,  passing  his 
hand  over  his  eyes  in  an  unusual  way.  "I  see  no  possible 
way  out  of  it !  " 

"  There  is  a  way  out  of  every  difficulty,  however  serious  it 
may  be,"  said  Oblonsky,  rising,  and  growing  more  animated. 
"  You  once  spoke  of  divorce  — if  }-ou  are  convinced  that  you 
can  never-  be  happy  together  again  ' '  — 

"  Happiness  may  be  understood  in  different  ways.  Let 
us  grant  that  I  agree  to  every  thing,  what  escape  is  there 
from  our  situation?  " 

"  If  you  wish  for  my  advice," —  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
with  the  same  oily  smile  with  which  he  had  spoken  to  his 
sister  ;  and  this  smile  was  so  persuasive,  that  Kar6niu,  giving 
himself  up  to  the  weakness  which  overpowered  him,  was  in- 
clined to  believe  his  brother-in-law.  "  She  will  never  say  what 


ANNA  EARgyiXA.  439 

her  wishes  are.  But  there  is  one  thing  possible,  one  thing 
that  she  may  hope  for,"  continued  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  ; 
"  and  that  is,  to  break  the  bonds  which  are  only  the  cause 
of  cruel  recollections.  In  my  opinion,  it  is  indispensable  to 
put  your  relations  on  an  entirely  new  footing,  and  that  can 
only  be  done  by  mutually  resuming  your  freedom." 

"Divorce!"  interrupted  Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch,  with 
disgust. 

"  Yes,  divorce  :  I  mean  —  da!  —  divorce,"  repeated  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  blushing.  "  Taking  every  thing  into  consid- 
eration, that  is  the  most  sensible  course  when  two  married 
people  find  themselves  in  such  a  situation  as  yours.  What 
is  to  be  done,  when  living  together  becomes  unbearable? 
And  that  may  often  happen  "  — 

Aleks£i  Aleksaudrovitch  drew  a  deep  sigh,  and  covered 
his  eyes. 

"There  is  only  one  consideration,  —  whether  one  of  the 
parties  wishes  to  marry  again.  If  not,  it  is  very  simple," 
continued  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  becoming  less  constrained. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  with  his  face  distorted  by  grief, 
muttered  a  few  unintelligible  words,  but  made  no  reply.  What 
seemed  so  simple  to  Oblonsky,  he  had  turned  over  a  thousand 
times  in  his  mind,  and,  instead  of  finding  it  very  easy,  found 
it  utterly  impossible.  Now  that  the  conditions  for  divorce 
were  known  to  him,  his  personal  dignity,  as  well  as  his 
respect  for  religion,  prevented  him  from  taking  the  neces- 
sary steps  to  procure  one. 

And,  besides,  what  would  become  of  their  son?  To  leave 
him  with  his  mother  was  impossible.  The  divorced  mother 
would  have  a  new  family,  in  which  the  child's  position  and 
training  would  be  wretched.  Should  he  keep  the  child  for 
himself  ?  But  he  knew  that  would  be  an  act  of  vengeance, 
and  vengeance  he  did  not  want.  But,  above  all,  what  made 
divorce  impossible  in  his  eyes,  was  the  thought  that,  in  con- 
senting to  it,  he  himself  would  contribute  to  Anna's  destruc- 
tion. Dolly's  words,  when  he  was  in  Moscow,  remained 
graven  in  his  heart :  "  In  getting  a  divorce,  3*011  think  only  of 
yourself."  These  words,  now  that  he  had  forgiven  her,  and 
had  become  attached  to  the  children,  had  a  very  significant 
meaning  to  him.  To  consent  to  a  divorce,  to  give  Anna  her 
liberty,  was  to  take  away  her  last  help  in  the  way  of  salva- 
tion, and  to  push  her  over  the  precipice.  Once  divorced,  he 
knew  very  well  that  she  would  be  united  to  Vronsky  by  a 


440  ANNA 

criminal  and  illegal  bond  ;  for  marriage,  according  to  the 
Church,  can  only  be  dissolved  by  death. 

"  And  who  knows,  but,  after  a  year  or  two,  either  he 
might  abandon  her,  or  she  might  form  a  new  liaison?" 
thought  Aleks^i  Aleksandrovitch ;  "and  I,  having  allowed 
a  divorce,  should  be  responsible  for  her  fall." 

He  went  over  all  this  a  hundred  times,  and  was  convinced 
that  divorce  was  not  at  all  as  simple  as  his  brother-in-law 
would  make  it  out. 

He  did  not  admit  a  word  of  what  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
said  ;  he  had  a  thousand  arguments  to  refute  such  reasoning  ; 
and,  notwithstanding  this,  he  listened,  feeling  that  his  words 
were  the  manifestation  of  that  irresistible  force  which  was 
ruling  him,  and  to  which  he  would  finally  submit. 

"The  only  question  is,  how,  on  what  conditions,  you  will 
consent  to  a  divorce  ;  for  she  will  never  dare  to  ask  any  thing 
of  you,  and  will  give  herself  up  entirely  to  your  generosity." 

"My  God!  my  God!  why  has  this  come  upon  me?" 
thought  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch ;  and,  as  he  remembered 
the  condition  of  divorce  in  which  the  husband  assumed  the 
blame,  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  as  Vronsky  had  done. 

"You  are  distressed;  I  understand  it;  but  if  }-ou  will 
consider"  — 

"  '  Whosoever  smiteth  thee  on  the  right  cheek,  turn  to  him 
the  other  also ;  and  if  any  man  would  take  away  thy  coat, 
let  him  have  thy  cloak  also,'  "  thought  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch.—  "Yes,  yes  !"  he  cried,  almost  shrieking.  "  I  will 
take  all  the  shame  upon  myself :  I  will  even  give  up  my  son. 
But  will  it  not  be  better  to  leave  all  that?  However,  do 
as  you  please." 

And  turning  away  from  his  brother-in-law,  that  he  might 
not  see  his  face,  he  sat  down  near  the  window.  He  was 
humiliated ;  he  was  mortified ;  but  nevertheless  he  felt  a 
sense  of  happiness  and  emotion  in  the  consciousness  of  his 
own  humility. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  touched. 

"  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  be  assured  that  she  will  appre- 
ciate 3'our  generosity.  It  is,  without  doubt,  the  will  of 
God,"  he  added ;  but  he  felt,  as  soon  as  the  words  were  out 
of  his  mouth,  what  a  foolish  remark  it  was. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  would  have  replied,  but  tears 
prevented  him. 

"  This  trial  comes  by  fate,  and  it  must  be  accepted.     I 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  441 

accept  it  as  an  accomplished  fact,  and  I  will  try  to  help  you 
and  her,"  said  Stepan  Arkady evitch. 

When  Oblousky  left  his  brother-in-law's  study,  he  was  sin- 
cerely affected,  which  did  not  prevent  him  from  being  de- 
lighted at  having  settled  this  matter ;  for  he  was  certain  that 
Alekse"i  Alek^androvitch  would  not  go  back  on  his  word. 
His  satisfaction  suggested  a  conundrum  which  he  could  ask 
his  wife  and  intimate  friends  :  — 

••  \Vhat  is  the  difference  between  me  and  a  field-marshal? 
The  field-marshal  makes  divorces,  and  nobody  is  the  better 
for  it ;  while  I  make  divorces,  and  three  people  are  better  off. 
Or,  rather,  what  resemblance  is  there  between  me  and  a 
field-marshal?  Where  —  but  by  and  by  I'll  improve  on  it," 
he  said  to  himself. 

XXIII. 

VROXSKY'S  wound  was  dangerous,  although  it  did  not  reach 
the  heart.  He  hung  for  several  days  between  life  and  death. 
When  for  the  first  time  he  was  able  to  speak,  Varia,  his  sister- 
in-law,  was  alone  with  him  in  the  room. 

"Varia  !  "  said  he,  looking  at  her  gravely,  "I  was  wounded 
accidentally,  and  please  tell  everybody  so,  otherwise  it  will 
seem  too  ridiculous  !  " 

Varia  bent  towards  him  without  replying,  examining  his 
face  with  a  happy  smile.  His  eyes  were  bright,  but  no  longer 
feverish,  but  their  expression  was  stern. 

"  Nu!  Thank  the  Lord  !  "  she  replied  :  "  are  you  suffer- 
ing? " 

"A  little  on  this  side,"  said  he,  pointing  to  his  chest. 

"  Let  me  change  the  dressing,  then." 

He  watched  her  change  it,  and  when  she  had  finished,  — 

"  You  know,"  said  he,  "•  that  I  am  not  delirious  now.  See, 
I  beg  of  you,  that  nobody  says  that  I  shot  myself  intention- 
ally." 

"  Nobody  says  so.  I  hope,  however,  that  after  this  you 
will  give  up  shooting  yourself  accidentally,"  she  said  with  a 
questioning  smile. 

"  Probably  I  shall  not,  but  it  would  have  been  better." 

In  spite  of  these  words,  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  danger, 
Vronsky  felt  that  he  was  free  •from  a  part  of  his  misfortunes. 
By  his  action  he  had  washed  away,  as  it  were,  his  shame  and 
humiliation  which  had  weighed  on  him  before.  Henceforth 


442  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

he  could  think  calmly  of  Aleksei  Aleksanclrovitch,  recogniz- 
ing his  magnanimity  without  being  crushed  by  it.  Besides,  he 
was  able  to  be  himself  again,  to  look  people  in  the  face,  and 
to  resume  his  customary  habits.  AVhat  he  could  not  tear 
from  his  heart,  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  was  the  regret,  bor- 
dering on  despair,  at  having  lost  Anna  forever  ;^  since  he  was 
firmly  resolved,  now  that  he  had  redeemed  his  sin  towards 
Karenin,  not  to  place  himself  between  the  repentant  wife  and 
her  husband.  But  he  could  not  put  out  of  his  heart  the  regret 
at  the  loss  of  her  love,  any  more  than  he  could  blot  out  the 
memory  of  happy  moments  spent  with  her,  and  not  half 
appreciated  till  now,  and  whose  charm  pursued  him  con- 
tinually. 

Serpukhovsko'i  thought  of  sending  him  to  Tashkend,  and 
Vronsky  accepted  the  proposition  without  the  least  hesita- 
tion. But  the  nearer  the  time  for  his  leaving  came,  the  more 
cruel  seemed  the  sacrifice  to  duty. 

"To  see  her  once  more,  and  then  bury  myself  and  die," 
he  thought ;  and  while  paying  his  farewell  visit  to  Betsy,  he 
expressed  this  wish  to  her. 

The  latter  set  out  at  once  as  an  ambassador  to  Anna,  but 
brought  back  her  refusal. 

u  So  much  the  better,"  thought  Vronsky,  on  receiving  her 
reply :  "  this  is  a  weakness  which  would  have  cost  me  my 
strength." 

The  next  morning  Betsy  herself  went  to  Vronsky,  an- 
nouncing that  she  had  heard,  through  Oblonsk}%  that  Alekse"! 
Aleksandrovitch  consented  to  a  divorce,  and  that  conse- 
quently there  was  no  longer  any  thing  to  hinder  Vronsky 
from  seeing  Anna. 

Without  giving  another  thought  to  his  resolutions  ;  with- 
out finding  out  when  he  could  see  her,  nor  where  her  husband 
would  be;  forgetting  even  to  escort  Betsy  home,  —  Vronsky 
ran  to  the  Karenins'.  He  flew  up  the  steps,  rushed  into  the 
house,  almost  ran  across  the  hall,  entered  Anna's  room,  and, 
without  even  considering  whether  there  might  not  be  some 
one  else  in  the  room,  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  covering  her 
hands,  her  face,  and  her  neck  with  kisses. 

Anna  was  prepared  to  see  him  again,  and  had  made  up 
her  mind  what  to  say  to  him ;  but  she  had  no  time  to  speak  : 
Vrousky's  passion  overpowered  her.  She  wanted  to  calm 
him,  to  calm  herself,  but  it  was  impossible  :  her  lips  trem- 
bled, and  for  a  long  time  she  was  unable  to  speak  a  word. 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  443 

"Yes,  you  have  conquered  me:  I  am  3Tours  !  "  she  suc- 
ceeded in  saying  at  last. 

"  So  it  had  to  be  !  and  so  long  as  we  five,  it  must  be  so  : 
I  know  it  now." 

"  It  is  true,"  she  replied,  growing  paler  and  paler  as  she 
put  her  arms  around  Vronsky's  neck.  "However,  there  is 
something  terrible  in  this  after  what  has  happened." 

"All  that  will  be  forgotten,  forgotten:  we  shall  be  so 
happy !  If  there  were  any  need  of  our  love  increasing,  it 
would  increase,  because  there  is  something  terrible  about 
it,"  said  he,  raising  his  head. 

She  could  only  reply  with  a  look  out  of  her  loving  eyes. 

"  I  hardly  know  you  with  your  short  hair.  You  are  love- 
ly !  Just  like  a  little  boy  !  But  how  pale  you  are  !  " 

"Yes:  I  am  still  very  weak,"  she  replied,  smiling;  and 
her  lips  began  to  tremble  again. 

"  We  will  go  to  Italy :  you  will  grow  strong  there." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  we  could  be  like  husband  and  wife, 
alone,  by  ourselves?  "  said  she,  looking  him  in  the  eye. 

"I  am  only  surprised  at  one  thing,  —  that  it  has  not  always 
been  so." 

"  Stiva  says  that  lie  will  consent  to  every  thing,  but  I  will 
not  accept  his  generosity,"  said  she,  looking  thoughtfully 
above  Vronsky's  head.  "  I  do  not  wish  for  a  divorce.  It 
is  all  the  same  to  me  now.  I  only  wonder  what  he  will 
decide  with  regard  to  Serozha." 

Vronsky  could  not  understand  how,  in  these  first  moments 
of  their  reconciliation,  she  could  think  of  her  son  and  of 
divorce.  How  could  it  be  all  the  same  to  her? 

"  Don't  speak  of  that,  don't  think  of  it,"  said  he,  turn- 
ing Anna's  hand  over  and  over  in  his,  to  draw  her  attention 
to  him  ;  but  she  did  not  look  at  him. 

'•  Acli!  why  didn't  I  die?  it  would  have  been  so  much 
better!"  said  she;  and  tears  flooded  her  face;  she  tried, 
nevertheless,  to  smile,  that  she  might  not  give  him  pain. 

Once  Vronsky  would  have  thought  it  impossible  to  give  up 
the  flattering  and  perilous  mission  of  Tashkend,  but  now  he 
refused  it  without  any  hesitation  :  then,  noticing  that  his  re- 
fusal was  misinterpreted  by  the  authorities,  he  gave  in  his 
resignation. 

A  month  later,  Aleks^i  Aleksandrovitch  was  left  alone 
with  his  son,  and  Anna  went  abroad  with  Vronsky,  refusing 
a  divorce,  and  peremptorily  taking  leave  of  him. 


444  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

PART  V. 
I. 

THE  Princess  Shcherbatska'ia  thought  it  would  not  be 
possible  to  have  the  wedding  any  time  within  the  five  weeks 
before  Lent,  on  account  of  the  trousseau,  which  would  not 
be  half  done  ;  she  acknowledged,  however,  that  there  was  a 
risk  of  having  to  defer  it  still  longer  on  account  of  mourning, 
if  they  waited  till  Easter,  as  an  old  aunt  of  the  prince's  was 
very  ill,  and  liable  to  die.  So  a  medium  course  was  taken, 
by  deciding  to  have  the  wedding  before  Lent,  and  to  prepare 
only  a  small  part  of  the  trousseau  at  once,  leaving  the  larger 
part  till  afterwards.  The  young  couple  intended  to  set  out 
for  the  country  immediately  after  the  ceremony,  and  would 
not  need  the  larger  part  of  the  things.  The  princess  was 
indignant  to  find  Levin  indifferent  to  all  these  questions : 
still  more  than  half  beside  himself,  he  continued  to  believe 
his  happiness  and  his  own  person  the  centre,  the  only  aim,  of 
creation  ;  he  did  not  trouble  himself  in  the  least  about  his 
affairs,  but  left  everything  to  his  friends,  feeling  sure  that 
they  would  arrange  everything  for  the  best.  His  brother, 
Serge" i  Ivanovitch,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  and  the  princess 
ruled  him  absolutely  ;  he  was  satisfied  to  accept  whatever 
propositions  they  might  make. 

His  brother  borrowed  the  money  that  he  needed  ;  the 
princess  advised  him  to  leave  Moscow  after  the  wedding; 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  advised  him  to  go  abroad.  He  con- 
sented to  everything.  k'  Make  whatever  plans  you  please," 
he  thought,  "I  am  happy;  and  whatever  you  may  decide 
on,  my  joy  will  be  neither  greater  nor  less."  But  when  he 
told  Kitty  of  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  suggestion,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see  that  she  did  not  approve  of  it,  and  that  she 
had  very  decided  plans  for  the  future.  She  knew  that 
Levin's  heart  was  at  home  in  his  work,  and  although  she 
neither  understood  his  affairs,  nor  tried  to  understand  them, 
still  they  seemed  to  her  very  important ;  as  their  home  would 
be  in  the  country,  she  did  not  wish  to  go  abroad  where  they 
were  not  going  to  live,  but  insisted  on  settling  down  in  the 
country  where  their  home  was  to  be.  This  very  firm  deter- 


ANNA  KARENINA.  445 

ruination  surprised  Levin  ;  but  it  seemed  to  him  all  right, 
and  he  begged  Stepau  Arkadyevitch,  who  had  excellent 
taste,  to  go  to  Pokrovsky  and  take  charge  of  the  improve- 
ments in  his  house.  It  seemed  to  him  that  that  belonged  to 
his  friend's  province. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  one  day,  after 
his  return  from  the  country,  where  he  had  arranged  every- 
thing for  the  young  couple's  reception,  "  have  you  your 
certificate  of  confession?" 

"No;  why?" 

"  You  can't  be  married  without  it." 

"Ay,  ay,  ay!"  cried  Levin;  ''but  it  is  nine  years  since 
I  have  been  to  confession !  and  I  haven't  even  thought 
of  it ! " 

''That  is  good!"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  laughing, 
"and  you  look  on  me  as  a  nihilist!  But  that  can't  be 
allowed  to  go  on ;  you  must  go  to  communion." 

"  When  ?  there  are  only  four  days  more  !  "  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  arranged  this  matter  as  he  had  every  other, 
and  Levin  prepared  for  his  devotions.  An  unbeliever  him- 
self, he  nevertheless  respected  the  faith  of  others,  but  he 
found  it  very  hard  to  attend  and  participate  in  all  religious 
ceremonies.  In  his  tender  and  sentimental  frame  of  mind, 
the  necessity  of  dissimulating  was  not  only  odious  to  him ; 
it  was  well-nigh  impossible.  Now,  he  would  be  obliged 
either  to  mock  at  sacred  things,  or  to  lie,  at  a  time  when  his 
heart  was  bursting,  when  he  felt  at  the  height  of  bliss.  He 
felt  that  he  could  do  neither.  But  in  spite  of  all  his  efforts 
to  persuade  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  that  there  must  be  some 
other  way  of  obtaining  a  certificate  without  being  forced 
to  confess,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  declared  that  it  was  im- 
possible. 

"Da!  What  harm  will  it  do  you?  only  two  days!  and 
the  priest  is  a  capital,  bright  little  old  man.  He  will  pull 
this  tooth  without  your  knowing  it." 

During  the  first  mass  that  he  attended  Levin  did  his  best 
to  recall  the  strong  religious  impressions  of  his  youth,  when 
he  was  between  sixteen  and  seventeen  years  old  ;  but  he 
found  it  impossible.  He  then  tried  to  look  upon  religious 
forms  as  an  ancient  custom,  without  any  real  meaning, 
something  like  the  habit  of  making  calls  ;  this  also  he  felt 
that  he  could  never  do.  Like  most  of  his  contemporaries, 
Levin  was  completely  undecided  in  regard  to  his  religious 


446  ANNA  KAR&NINA. 

views.  He  could  not  believe  ;  lie  was  also  equally  unable 
absolutely  to  disbelieve.  This  confusion  of  feelings  caused 
him  extreme  pain  and  annoyance  during  the  time  allotted  to 
his  devotions  ;  his  conscience  cried  out  that  to  act  \vithout 
understanding  was  an  evil  and  deceitful  action. 

Not  to  be  in  too  open  contradiction  with  his  convictions, 
he  tried  at  first  to  attribute  some  meaning  to  the  divine 
service  with  its  different  rites ;  but,  finding  that  he  was 
criticizing  instead  of  understanding,  he  tried  not  to  listen, 
but  to  lose  himself  in  his  inmost  thoughts,  which  encroached 
upon  him  during  the  solemn  night  office  in  the  church. 
Mass,  vespers,  and  evening  prayers  passed  in  this  way  ;  the 
next  morning  he  rose  early,  and  came  at  eight  o'clock,  with- 
out having  eaten  anything,  to  morning  prayers  and  confes- 
sion. The  church  was  deserted ;  he  saw  nobody  except  a 
mendicant  soldier,  two  old  women,  and  the  officiating  priests. 
A  young  deacon  came  to  meet  him  ;  his  long,  thin  back  was 
clearly  defined  in  two  halves  beneath  his  short  cassock  ;  he 
approached  a  little  table  near  the  wall,  and  began  to  read 
prayers.  Levin,  hearing  him  repeat  in  a  hurried,  monoto- 
nous voice,  clipping  his  words,  the  refrain,  "  Lord,  have 
mercy  upon  us,"  remained  standing  behind  him,  trying  to 
keep  from  listening  and  criticizing,  so  that  his  own  thoughts 
might  not  be  disturbed. 

ki  What  a  charm  there  is  about  her  hands,"  he  thought, 
recalling  the  evening  before,  which  he  had  spent  with  Kitty 
at  the  table  in  one  corner  of  the  drawing-room.  There  had 
been  nothing  exciting  about  their  conversation  ;  she  had 
amused  herself  by  opening  and  shutting  her  hand  as  it  rested 
on  the  table,  all  the  while  laughing  at  her  childishness.  He 
remembered  how  he  had  kissed  this  hand,  and  examined  its 
lines.  "  Still  have  mercy  upon  us,"  thought  Levin,  making 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  bowing,  while  he  noticed  the 
deacon's  supple  movements,  as  he  prostrated  himself  in  front 
of  him.  "  Then  she  took  my  hand,  and  in  turn  examined  it. 
'  You  have  a  famous  hand,'  she  said  to  me."  He  looked  at 
his  own  hand,  and  then  at  the  deacon's,  with  its  stubbed 
fingers.  "  Da!  Now  it  will  soon  be  over.  No;  he  is 
beginning  another  prayer.  Yes  ;  he  is  bowing  to  the  ground  ; 
that  is  the  end." 

The  deacon  took  the  three-ruble  note,  discreetly  slipped 
into  his  hand,  and  moved  quickly  away,  making  his  new 
boots  echo  over  the  flag-stones  of  the  empty  church  ;  he  dis- 


ANNA   KARtfNINA.  447 

appeared  behind  the  altar,  after  promising  Levin  to  register 
his  name  for  confession.  In  a  moment  he  reappeared  and 
beckoned  to  him.  Levin  went  towards  the  ambo.  He 
mounted  several  steps,  turned  to  the  right,  and  saw  the  priest, 
a  little  old  man,  whose  beard  was  almost  white,  with  kindly 
but  rather  weary  eyes,  standing  near  the  reading-desk,  turn- 
ing over  the  leaves  of  a  missal.  After  a  slight  bow  to  Levin, 
he  began  to  read  the  prayers  ;  then  he  kneeled  down  as  he 
finished,  — 

"May  the  invisible  Christ  be  present  at  your  confession," 
said^he,  turning  towards  Levin  and  holding  up  the  crucifix. 
"  Do  3*ou  believe  all  that  the  Holy  Apostolic  Church  teaches 
us?",  he  continued,  crossing  his  hands  under  his  stole. 

"  I  have  doubted,  I  still  doubt  everything,"  said  Levin, 
in  a  voice  which  sounded  disagreeable  to  his  own  ears,  and 
he  was  silent. 

The  priest  waited  a  few  moments,  then  closing  his  eyes 
and  speaking  very  rapidly,  — 

"  To  doubt  is  characteristic  of  human  weakness  ;  we  must 
pray  the  Lord  Almighty  to  strengthen  you.  What  are  your 
principal  sins?" 

The  priest  spoke  without  the  least  interruption,  and  as 
though  he  were  afraid  of  losing  time. 

"  My  principal  sin  is  doubt,  which  I  cannot  get  rid  of;  I 
am  nearly  always  in  doubt,  and  I  doubt  everything." 

"  To  doubt  is  characteristic  of  human  weakness,"  repeated 
the  priest,  using  the  same  words;  "what  do  you  doubt 
principally?" 

"  Everything.  I  sometimes  even  doubt  the  existence  of 
God,"  said  Levin,  in  spite  of  himself  almost  frightened  at 
the  impropriety  of  these  words.  But  they  did  not  seem  to 
produce  on  the  priest  the  effect  that  he  feared. 

"How  can  you  doubt  the  existence  of  God?"  he  asked, 
with  an  almost  imperceptible  smile. 

Levin  was  silent. 

"  What  doubts  can  you  have  about  the  Creator  when  you 
contemplate  his  works?  Who  ornamented  the  celestial 
vault  with  its  stars,  decked  the  earth  with  all  its  beauty? 
How  can  these  things  exist  without  a  Creator?"  And  he 
cast  a  questioning  glance  at  Levin. 

Levin  felt  the  impossibility  of  a  philosophical  discussion 
with  a  priest,  and  replied  to  his  last  question, — 

"  I  do  not  know." 


448  ANNA   KARENINA. 

"You  do  not  know?  But  then  why  do  you  doubt  that 
God  lius  created  everything?" 

"I  cannot  understand  it,"  replied  Levin,  blushing,  and 
feeling  the  absurdity  of  replies,  which  in  the  present  case 
could  not  be  anything  else  than  mere  words. 

"  Pray  to  God,  have  recourse  to  him  ;  the  Fathers  of  the 
Church  themselves  doubted,  and  asked  God  to  strengthen 
their  faith.  The  devil  is  mighty,  and  we  should  resist  him. 
Pray  to  God,  pray  to  God,"  repeated  the  priest  rapidly. 

Then  he  kept  silent  for  a  moment,  as  though  he  were 
buried  in  thought.  « 

"  They  tell  me  that  you  intend  to  marry  the  daughter  of 
my  parishioner  and  spiritual  son,  the  Prince  Shcherbataky," 
he  added  with  a  smile.  "  She  is  an  accomplished  young 
girl." 

"Yes,"  replied  Levin,  blushing  for  the  priest.  "Why 
does  he  need  to  ask  such  questions  at  confession  ?  "  he  said  to 
himself. 

The  priest  continued  :  — 

"  You  are  thinking  of  marriage,  and  perhaps  God  may 
grant  you  offspring.  What  education  will  you  give  to  3'our 
little  children  if  you  do  not  succeed  in  conquering  the  temp- 
tations of  the  devil,  who  causes  you  to  doubt?  If  you  love 
your  children,  you  will  not  only  wish  for  them  riches,  abun- 
dance, and  honor,  but  still  more,  as  a  good  father,  the  salva- 
tion of  their  souls  and  the  light  of  truth;  is  this  not  so? 
How  will  you  reply  to  the  innocent  child  who  asks  you, 
'  Papasha,  who  made  all  that  delights  me  on  the  earth,  the 
water,  the  sunshine,  the  flowers,  the  plants?'  Will  you 
answer,  '  I  know  nothing  about  it '  ?  Can  you  ignore  what 
the  Lord  God  in  his  infinite  goodness  has  revealed  to  you  ? 
And  if  the  child  asks  you,  '  What  awaits  me  beyond  the 
tomb?'  what  will  you  say  to  him  if  you  know  nothing?  How 
will  you  answer  him?  Will  you  give  him  up  to  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  world  and  the  devil  ?  That  is  not  right !  "  said 
he,  stopping  ;  and  turning  his  head  on  one  side,  looked  at 
Levin  out  of  his  kindly,  gentle  eyes. 

Levin  was  silent,  not  because  he  was  afraid  this  time  of 
an  unbecoming  discussion,  but  because  nobody  had  ever  put 
such  questions  to  him  before,  and  because  he  thought  there 
was  plenty  of  time  to  consider  them  before  his  children 
should  be  in  a  state  to  question  him. 

"  You  are  about  to  enter  upon  a  phase  of  life,"  continued 


•ANNA   KAR&NWA.  449 

the  priest,  "  where  one  must  choose  his  path  and  keep  to  it. 
Pray  God  in  his  mercy  to  keep  and  sustain  you  ;  and  in  con- 
clusion :  May  our  Lord  God,  Jesus  Christ,  pardon  you,  my 
sou,  in  his  goodness  and  loving  kindness  to  all  mankind." 
And  the  priest,  ending  the  formulas  of  absolution,  took 
leave  of  him,  after  giving  him  his  blessing. 

Levin  began  the  day  full  of  happiness  at  the  thought  of 
being  free  from  a  false  situation  without  having  been  obliged 
to  lie.  Besides,  he  carried  away  from  this  good  old  monk's 
little  sermon  a  vague  impression  that,  instead  of  listening  to 
absurdities,  he  had  heard  things  worth  the  trouble  of  inves- 
tigation. 

••  Not  now,  of  course,"  he  thought,  "  but  later  on."  Levin 
felt  keenly  at  this  time  that  there  were  troubled  and  obscure 
places  in  his  soul ;  concerning  his  religion,  he  was  exactly 
where  Sviazhsky  and  others  were,  whose  incoherent  opinions 
struck  him  disagreeably. 

That  evening  which  Levin  spent  with  his  fiancee  at  Dolly's 
was  very  gay  ;  while  talking  with  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  he 
said  that  he  was  like  a  dog  being  trained  to  jump  through 
a  hoop,  which,  delighted  at  having  finally  learned  his  lesson, 
wags  his  tail,  and  is  eager  to  leap  over  the  table  and  through 
the  window. 

II. 

THE  princess  and  Dolly  strictly  observed  the  established 
customs  ;  so  Levin  was  not  allowed  to  see  his  fiancee  on  the 
day  of  the  wedding ;  he  dined  at  his  hotel  with  three  bache- 
lors, who  met  in  his  room  by  chance  :  they  were  Katavasof, 
an  old  university  friend,  now  professor  of  natural  sciences, 
whom  Levin  had  met  on  the  street,  and  brought  home  to 
dinner;  Tchirikof,  his  best  man,  justice  of  the  peace  at 
Moscow,  a  bear-hunting  companion  ;  and  finally,  Sergei  Ivan- 
ovitch. 

The  dinner  was  very  lively.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  was  in 
excellent  spirits,  and  Katavasof's  originality  amused  him 
very  much  ;  the  latter,  feeling  that  he  was  appreciated,  tried 
to  show  off,  and  Tchirikof  added  his  share  of  gayety  to  the 
conversation. 

"  So,  here  is  our  friend  Konstantin  Dmitrie'vitch,"  said 
Katavasof,  with  the  slow  speech  of  a  professor  accus- 
tomed to  be  listened  to.  "  What  a  talented  fellow  he  was  ! 


450  AXXA   KARENINA.  ' 

I  speak  of  him  in  the  past,  for  he  no  longer  exists.  He 
loved  science  when  he  lelt  the  university  ;  he  took  an  interest 
in  humanity  ;  now  he  employs  half  his  faculties  in  deceiving 
himself,  and  the  other  half  in  trying  to  give  an  appearance 
of  reason  to  his  illusions." 

' '  I  never  met  a  more  confirmed  enemy  of  marriage  than 
you,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch. 

'•Not  at  all;  I  am  a  friend  of  the  distribution  of  labor. 
People  who  do  nothing  cannot,  ought  not,  to  be  the  ones 
to  propagate  the  race.  Others  should  devote  themselves 
to  their  intellectual  development  and  welfare.  That  is  my 
opinion.  I  know  a  great  many  people  are  inclined  to  con- 
found these  two  branches  of  work;  but  I  am  not  of  the 
number." 

"How  delighted  I  should  be  to  hear  that  you  were  in 
love!"  exclaimed  Levin.  "Pray  invite  me  to  your  wed- 
ding." 

'•But  I  am  already  in  love." 

"  Yes ;  with  your  mollusks.  You  know,"  said  Levin, 
"  Mikhail  S£menuitch  has  written  a  work  on  the  nutrition, 
and"  — 

"  Nu!  I  beg  of  you  not  to  confuse  matters  !  It  is  of  no 
consequence  what  I  have  written  ;  but  it  is  a  fact  that  I  love 
inollusks." 

"  That  need  not  prevent  your  loving  a  wife." 

' '  No ;  but  my  wife  would  object  to  my  loving  the  mol- 
lusks." 

'•Why  so?" 

"You  will  see  how  it  will  be.  Now,  you  love  hunting, 
agronomy  —  Nu!  just  wait  awhile  !  " 

"I  met  Arkhip  to-day,"  said  Tchirikof;  "he  says  that 
there  are  quantities  of  elk  at  Prudnof,  and  two  bears." 

"  Nu  !     You  may  hunt  them  without  me." 

"  You  see  how  it  is,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch.  "  Da!  you 
may  as  well  say  good-bye  to  bear-hunting  :  your  wife  won't 
allow  it." 

Levin  smiled.  The  idea  that  his  wife  would  object  to  his 
hunting  seemed  so  delightful  that  he  was  ready  to  renounce 
the  pleasure  of  ever  meeting  a  bear  again. 

"  The  custom  of  saying  good-bye  to  one's  bachelor  life  is 
not  without  meaning."  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch.  "  However 
happy  one  may  be,  he  is  always  sorry  to  give  up  his  lib- 
erty." 


ANNA   KARtiNIXA.  451 

"  Confess  that,  like  Gogolevsky,  when  he  was  engaged,  you. 
feel  like  jumping  out  the  window." 

••  Certainly  ;  but  he  won't  confess  it,"  said  Katavasof, 
with  a  loud  laugh. 

"  The  window  is  open  —  Let  us  go  to  Tver  !  We  might 
find  one  bear  in  her  den.  Indeed,  we  have  still  time  to 
catch  the  five  o'clock  train,"  said  Tchirikof,  smiling.  "Hear 
them  laugh  !  " 

'•  Well,  upon  my  honor,"  replied  Levin,  smiling,  too,  "I 
cannot  discover  the  least  trace  of  regret  in  my  soul  for  my 
lost  liberty." 

"  Da!  Your  soul  is  in  such  a  chaos  that  you  cannot  find 
anything  in  it,"  said  Katavasof.  "  Wait  till  it  becomes 
calmer;  then  you  will  see.  You  are  a  hopeless  case.  NIL! 
Let  us  drink  to  his  recovery." 

After  dinner,  the  guests  separated,  to  dress  for  the  wed- 
ding. 

When  alone,  Levin  again  asked  himself  whether  he  really 
regretted  the  liberty  of  which  his  friends  had  just  been  tank- 
ing, and  he  smiled  at  the  idea. 

"Liberty?  What  of  liberty?  Happiness  for  me  consists 
in  loving,  in  thinking  her  thoughts,  in  wishing  her  wishes, 
without  any  liberty.  That  is  happiness  !  " 

"  But  can  I  know  her  thoughts,  her  wishes,  her  feelings?" 
said  something  like  a  voice.  The  smile  disappeared  from 
his  face.  He  fell  into  a  deep  study,  and  was  suddenly  seized 
with  fear  and  doubt.  "And  if  she  does  not  love  me?  If 
she  is  marrying  me  merely  for  the  sake  of  being  married? 
If  she  does  not  herself  know  what  she  is  doing?  Will  she, 
perhaps,  see  her  mistake,  and  discover,  after  we  are  mar- 
ried, that  she  does  not  love  me,  and  that  she  never  can  love 
me?"  And  a  strange,  even  painful,  thought  about  Kitty 
came  to  his  mind ;  he  began  to  be  violently  jealous  of 
Vrousky,  just  as  he  had  been  the  year  before  ;  there  came 
up  before  him,  like  the  memory  of  yesterday,  that  evening 
when  he  had  seen  them  together,  and  he  suspected  her  of 
not  having  confessed  everything  to  him. 

"No,"  thought  he,  with  despair,  jumping  up  from  his 
chair,  "  I  cannot  let  this  remain  so  !  I  will  go  and  find  her, 
—  I  will  talk  with  her,  and  say  to  her  again,  for  the  last 
time :  '  We  are  free  ;  is  it  not  better  to  stop  just  where  we 
:uv?  Anything  is  better  than  life-long  unhnppiness,  shame, 
distrust ! ' '  And  with  despair  in  his  heart,  full  of  hatred  to- 


452  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

wards  all  mankind,  towards  himself  and  Kitty,  he  hastened 
to  her  house. 

He  found  her  sitting  on  a  large  chest,  busy  with  her  maid, 
looking  over  dresses  of  all  colors,  spread  out  on  the  floor, 
and  over  the  backs  of  the  chairs. 

"  Ach!"  she  exclaimed,  beaming  with  joy  at  seeing  him. 
"Is  it  tui?  is  it  vui?  [Till  this  last  day  she  had  sometimes 
said  tui,  sometimes  v«i.]  1  did  not  expect  this  !  I  am  just 
disposing  of  my  maiden  wardrobe." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  good  !  "  he  replied,  frowning  at  the  maid. 

"Run  away,  Duniasha ;  I  will  call  you,"  said  Kitty;  and 
as  soon  as  she  had  gone  she  asked,  "  What  is  the  matter?" 
She  was  surprised  at  her  lover's  strange,  confused,  and 
angry  face,  and  was  seized  with  fear. 

"Kitty,  I  am  in  torture,  and  I  cannot  suffer  alone!"  he 
said  to  her  in  despair,  stopping  in  front  of  her  in  a  beseech- 
ing way,  to  read  her  eyes.  Her  beautiful,  limpid  eyes,  full 
of  love  and  frankness,  showed  him  at  once  how  idle  his 
fears  were,  but  he  felt  an  urgent  need  of  being  reassured. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  that  it  is  not  yet  too  late ;  that  every- 
thing can  even  now  be  taken  back." 

"  What?  I  do  not  understand.  What  is  the  matter  with 
thee?" 

"lam  —  as  I  have  said  and  thought  a  thousand  times 
before —  I  am  not  worthy  of  you.  You  once  could  not  con- 
sent to  marry  me.  Think  of  it !  Perhaps  you  are  mistaken 
now.  Think  of  it  well.  You  cannot  love  me  —  if — it  is 
better  to  acknowledge  it "  —  he  continued,  without  looking 
at  her.  "I  shall  be  miserable,  but  no  matter;  let  people 
say  what  they  please  ;  anything  is  better  than  unhappiness  ! 
Now,  while  there  is  yet  time"  — 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  replied,  looking  frightened 
at  him.  "You  mean  you  want  to  take  back  your  word — 
break  off  our  —  ?  "  — 

"  Yes,  if  you  do  not  love  me." 

"  You  must  be  insane !  "  she  exclaimed,  red  with  vexa- 
tion. But  the  sight  of  Levin's  piteous  face  arrested  her 
anger;  and  pushing  aside  the  dresses,  which  covered  the 
chairs,  she  drew  near  to  him. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of?  tell  me  all." 

"  I  think  that  you  cannot  love  me.  Why  should  you  love 
me?" 

' '  Bozhe  mo'i !  what  can  I  do  ?  "  said  she  ;  and  she  burst 
into  tears. 


ANNA    KARfiNINA.  453 

"  Ack  !  what  have  I  done  ?  "  he  cried  instantly,  and  throw- 
ing himself  on  his  knees,  he  covered  her  hands  with  kisses. 

When  the  princess  came  into  the  room  five  minutes  later, 
she  found  them  completely  reconciled.  Kitty  had  not  only 
convinced  her  fianct  of  her  love,  but  she  had  explained  to 
him  why  she  loved  him.  She  said  that  she  loved  him  because 
she  understood  him  perfectly  ;  because  she  knew'  that  he 
could  love,  and  that  all  he  loved  was  good  and  beautiful. 

Levin  found  the  explanation  perfectly  satisfactory.  When 
the  princess  came  in,  they  were  sitting  side  by  side  on  the 
big  chest,  looking  over  the  dresses,  and  discussing  their  fate. 
Kitty  wanted  to  give  Duniasha  the  brown  dress  that  she  wore 
the  day  Levin  proposed  to  her  ;  and  he  insisted  that  it  should 
not  be  given  to  anybody,  and  that  Duniasha  should  have  the 
blue  dress. 

"  But  don't  you  see  that  she  is  a  brunette,  and  the  blue 
dress  will  not  be  becoming  to  her?  I  have  thought  it  all 
over " — 

When  she  learned  why  Levin  was  there,  the  princess  was 
half  vexed  nt  him,  and  sent  him  home  to  make  his  own  toilet, 
as  Charles  was  going  to  dress  Kitty's  hair. 

"  She  is  quite  excited  enough,"  said  she  ;  "  she  has  eaten 
nothing  for  days,  and  is  loosing  all  her  beauty  ;  and  here 
you  come  to  trouble  her  with  your  foolishness.  Come,  go 
away  now,  my  dear  !  " 

Levin  went  back  to  the  hotel,  guilty  and  ashamed,  but 
reassured.  His  brother,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  and  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  in  full  dress,  were  already  waiting  with  holy 
images  to  bless  him.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  had  to  go  home  again  to  get  her  son  per- 
fumed and  curled  for  the  occasion  ;  the  child  was  to  carry 
the  sacred  image  before  the  bride.  Then  one  carriage  must 
be  sent  for  the  shafer  (best  man),  while  another  was  to  come 
to  the  hotel  for  Sergei  Ivanovitch.  This  day  was  full  of 
complications.  He  must  make  haste,  for  it  was  already  half- 
past  six. 

The  ceremony  of  the  benediction  was  anything  but  solemn. 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch  assumed  a  comically  grave  attitude 
beside  his  wife,  raised  the  sacred  image,  and  obliged  Levin 
to  kneel  before  it,  while  he  blessed  him  with  an  affectionate 
and  wicked  smile  ;  at  last  he  kissed  him  three  times  ;  and 
Darya  Aleksandrovna  did  the  same  very  hastily,  for  she  was 
in  a  great  hurry  to  get  awaj',  and  in  great  perplexity  about 
the  carriage  arrangements. 


454  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

"Nu!  This  is  what  we  will  do:  you  go  for  him  in  our 
carriage,  and  perhaps  Sergei  Ivanovitch  will  be  so  good  as 
to  come  immediately,  and  send  back  his  "  — 

"  Certainly,  with  pleasure." 

"We  will  come  back  together.  Has  the  luggage  been 
sent?"  asked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Levin,  and  he  called  Kuzma  to  help  him 
dress. 

III. 

THE  church,  brilliantly  lighted,  was  crowded  with  people, 
principally  women ;  those  who  could  not  get  inside  were 
pushing  up  around  the  windows,  and  elbowing  each  other  as 
they  strove  for  the  best  places. 

More  than  twenty  carriages  stood  in  a  line  in  the  street, 
under  the  supervision  of  policemen.  A  police  officer  in 
brilliant  uniform,  unmindful  of  the  cold,  stood  under  the 
peristyle,  where  one  after  another  the  carriages  left  some- 
times ladies  in  full  dress,  holding  up  their  trains,  now  men 
taking  off  their  hats  as  they  entered  the  church.  The  lustres 
and  candles  burning  before  the  images  shed  a  flood  of  light 
on  the  golden  ikonostds  with  its  red  background,  on  the 
gilded  chacing  of  the  ikons,  the  great  silver  candelabra,  the 
censers,  the  choir  banners,  the  steps  of  the  pulpit,  the  old 
dingy  missals,  and  the  priestly  robes.  In  the  elegant  crowd 
on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  church  people  dressed  in  uni- 
forms, white  neckties,  and  satin,  silk,  and  velvet  robes,  with 
flowers  and  gloves,  were  holding  lively  conversations  in  an 
undertone,  and  the  murmur  of  their  voices  echoed  strangely 
beneath  the  high,  vaulted  roof.  Whenever  the  door  opened 
with  a  plaintive  creak,  the  murmur  ceased,  and  everybody 
turned  around,  hoping  at  last  to  see  the  bridal  pair.  But 
the  door  had  already  opened  more  than  ten  times,  and 
each  time  it  proved  to  be  some  late  comer  who  was  to  join 
the  group  of  invited  guests,  or  some  spectator  who  had  been 
clever  enough  to  deceive  or  elude  the  police  officer.  The 
friends  and  strangers  had  passed  through  every  phase  of 
waiting  ;  at  first  they  did  not  attach  any  importance  to  the 
delay ;  then  they  began  to  turn  around  more  frequently, 
wondering  what  could  have  happened  ;  at  last  the  relatives 
and  invited  guests  assumed  an  air  of  indifference,  as  though 
they  were  absorbed  in  their  conversation,  to  conceal  their 
uneasiness. 


ANNA   KARENINA.  455 

The  archdeacon,  as  though  regretful  of  his  time,  every 
now  and  then  gave  an  impatient  cough,  which  made  the  win- 
dows rattle  ;  the  singers,  tired  of  waiting,  were  trying  their 
voices  in  the  choir ;  the  priest  sent  now  a  sacristan,  now  a 
deacon,  to  find  out  when  the  bridal  party  should  arrive,  and 
appeared  himself  at  one  of  the  side-doors  in  a  lilac  gown 
with  an  embroidered  sash.  Finally  a  lady  looked  at  her 
watch,  and  said  to  the  one  sitting  next  her,  "  This  is  very 
strange  !  "  And  immediately  all  the  invited  guests  expressed 
their  surprise  and  discontent.  One  of  the  ushers  (shafera) 
went  to  see  what  could  have  happened. 

During  all  this  time  Kitty,  in  her  white  dress,  long  veil, 
and  wreath  of  orange  blossoms,  was  standing  in  the  Shcherbat- 
skys'  drawing-room,  with  her  sister,  Madame  Lvova,  and 
her  nuptial  god-mother  (posazhinna'ia  mat) ,  looking  out  of 
the  window,  waiting  in  vain  for  the  shafer  to  announce  her 
lover's  arrival  at  the  church. 

Levin,  meanwhile,  in  black  trousers,  but  without  either 
vest  or  coat,  was  walking  up  and  down  his  room  at  the  hotel, 
opening  the  door  every  minute  to  look  out  into  the  hall.  But 
in  the  hall  nothing  was  to  be  seen,  and  wringing  his  hands  in 
despair,  he  would  pour  forth  his  complaints  to  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch,  who  was  calmly  smoking. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  man  in  such  a  horribly  absurd  situa- 
tion?" 

"Da!  abominable!"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  with  his 
tranquil  smile.  "But  be  calm;  they  will  bring  it  right 
away." 

"  No,  hang  it !  "  said  Levin,  with  difficulty  restraining  his 
anger.  "  And  these  miserable  open  vests.  Absolutely  use- 
less !  "  he  added,  looking  at  his  tumbled  shirt  bosom.  "  And 
what  if  my  trunks  have  already  gone  !  "  he  exclaimed,  quite 
beside  himself. 

"  You  can  wear  mine." 

"  I  might  have  done  that  in  the  first  place." 

"  No  good  being  absurd  :  wait ;  it  will  all  come  out  right." 

The  fact  was  that  when  Levin  began  to  dress,  Kuzma,  his 
old  servant,  was  supposed  to  have  taken  out  his  dress  coat, 
his  vest,  and  all  that  was  necessary. 

"  But  the  shirt !  "  cried  Levin. 

"  You  have  your  shirt  on,"  replied  Kuzma,  with  an  inno- 
cent smile. 

All  his  things  had  been  taken  to  the  Shcherbatskys'  house, 


456  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

whence  they  were  to  be  sent  to  the  railway  station.  The  one 
that  Levin  had  worn  all  day  was  not  fit  to  put  on,  and  be- 
sides, it  did  not  go  with  his  open  vest ;  it  would  take  too  long 
to  send  to  the  Shcherbatskys'.  They  sent  out  to  buy  one; 
there  were  no  shops  open ;  it  was  Sunday.  A  shirt  was 
brought  from  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  house ;  it  was  ridicu- 
lously broad  and  short ;  at  last,  in  despair,  he  had  to  send  to 
the  Shcherbatskys'  to  have  his  trunks  opened.  So,  while  the 
people  were  waiting  in  the  church,  the  unfortunate  groom  was 
ramping  with  despair  up  and  down  his  room  like  a  wild  beast 
in  a  c;ige,  and  wondering  what  Kitty  would  think  now. 

Finally  the  guilty  Kuzma  rushed  into  the  room  all  out  of 
breath,  with  the  shirt  in  his  hand. 

"  I  got  there  just  in  time,  as  they  were  carrying  off  the 
trunks  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Inside  of  three  minutes  Levin  rushed  through  the  hall, 
without  daring  to  look  at  his  watch,  for  fear  of  increasing 
his  agony  of  mind. 

"  You  can't  change  anything,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
to  him,  following  leisurely.  "I  told  you  it  would  all  come 
out  right." 

IV. 

"  HERE  they  come  !  There  he  is  !  Which  one?  Is  it  the 
youngest?  Just  look  at  her!  Poor  little  Mdtvskka,  more 
dead  than  alive !  "  was  murmured  through  the  crowd,  as 
Levin  came  in  with  Kitty. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  told  his  wife  why  they  were  late,  and 
a  smile  passed  over  the  congregation  as  it  was  whispered 
about.  As  for  Levin,  he  neither  saw  anybody  nor  anything, 
but  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  bride.  Everybody  said  that 
she  had  grown  very  homely  during  these  last  days,  and  cer- 
tainly she  did  not  look  as  pretty  as  usual  in  her  bridal  dress  ; 
but  such  was  not  Levin's  opinion.  He  looked  at  her  high 
coiffure,  her  long  white  veil,  her  flowers,  the  trimming  of  her 
dress  modestly  encircling  her  slender  neck,  and  just  showing 
it  a  little  in  front,  her  remarkably  graceful  figure  ;  and  she 
seemed  more  beautiful  to  him  than  ever.  But  it  was  not  be- 
cause the  flowers  or  her  veil  or  her  Parisian  dress  added  any- 
thing to  her  beauty  :  it  was  the  expression  of  her  lovely  face, 
her  eyes,  her  lips,  with  their  innocent  sincerity,  preserved  in 
spite  of  all  this  adornment. 


ANNA   KARENINA.  457 

"  I  was  beginning  to  think  that  you  had  made  up  your  mind 
to  run  away,  she  said  to  him  vvitu  a  smile. 

"  What  happened  to  me  was  so  absurd  that  I  am  ashamed 
to  tell  you  about  it,"  he  replied,  blushing,  and  turning  to 
Sergei  Ivanovitch. 

"  The  tale  of  the  shirt  is  a  good  one,"  said  the  latter,  throw- 
ing back  his  head  with  a  laugh. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  replied  Levin,  without  understanding  a  word 
that  had  been  said. 

"  No,  !  Kostia,  now  is  the  time  to  make  a  serious  decision," 
said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  pretending  to  be  greatly  embar- 
rassed. "  The  question  is  a  grave  one,  and  you  must  appre- 
ciate its  full  importance.  I  have  been  asked  whether  the 
candles  shall  be  new  ones,  or  those  that  have  been  partly 
burned;  the  difference  is  ten  rubles,"  he  added.  "I  have 
decided  about  it,  but  I  am  afraid  that  you  will  not  approve 
of  it." 

Levin  knew  that  there  was  some  joke  about  it ;  but  he 
could  not  smile. 

"What  will  you  decide  on?  new  ones,  or  old  ones?  — 
that  is  the  question." 

"•  Yes,  yes  ;  new  ones." 

"  Nu!  I  am  very  glad.  The  question  is  settled,"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  Of  how  little  importance  a  man  is 
at  such  a  time  as  this  !  "  he  murmured  to  Tchirikof ,  while 
Levin  drew  near  to  his  bride,  after  looking  at  her  in  a  bewil- 
dered way. 

"  Notice,  Kitty,  who  first  sets  foot  on  the  carpet!  "  said 
the  Countess  Nordstoue,  stepping  up  to  her. — "You  look 
your  best,"  she  added,  addressing  Levin. 

"  Are  you  frightened?"  asked  Marya  Dmitrievna,  an  old 
aunt. 

"  You  aren't  cold,  are  you  ?  Y"ou  look  pale.  Bend  forward 
a  moment,"  said  Madame  Lvova,  raising  her  beautiful  round 
arms  to  repair  some  disarrangement  of  her  sister's  flowers. 

Dolly  approached  in  her  turn,  and  tried  to  say  something; 
but  her  emotion  choked  the  words,  and  she  began  to  laugh 
nervously. 

Kitty  looked  at  those  around  her  as  absent-mindedly  as 
Levin. 

During  this  time  the  officiating  clerg}"  had  again  put  on 
their  sacerdotal  robes,  and  the  priest,  accompanied  by  the 
deacon,  came  to  the  lectern  placed  at  the  entrance  of  the 


458  ANNA  KARENINA. 

sacred  doors.  The  priest  addressed  a  few  words  to  Levin ; 
but  Levin  failed  to  understand  what  lie  said. 

"  Take  her  hand  and  go  forward,"  whispered  his  shafer  to 
him. 

For  a  long  time  he  was  unable  to  make  out  what  was 
expected  of  him.  Then  he  did  the  opposite  of  what  he  was 
told.  Finally,  just  as  everybody  was  discouraged  and  ready 
to  let  him  follow  his  own  inspiration,  he  comprehended  that 
he  was  to  take  Kitty's  right  hand  with  his  right  hand,  with- 
out changing  his  position.  The  priest  then  took  a  few  steps, 
and  stopped  in  front  of  the  lectern.  The  relatives  and 
invited  guests  followed  the  young  couple ;  a  murmur  of 
voices  and  a  rustling  of  dresses  ensued.  Somebody  stooped 
down  to  arrange  the  bride's  train  ;  then  a  silence  so  profound 
reigned  in  the  church,  that  the  drops  of  wax  could  be  heard 
falling  from  the  candles. 

The  old  priest,  in  a  calotte,  his  white  hair  shining  like 
silver,  drawn  back  behind  his  ears,  drew  forth  his  little 
wrinkled  hands  from  beneath  his  heavy  silver  chasuble, 
ornamented  with  a  cross  of  gold,  approached  the  lectern,, 
and  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  missal. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  came  softly,  and  spoke  in  his  ear, 
made  a  sign  to  Levin,  and  then  stepped  back. 

The  priest  lighted  two  candles  decorated  with  flowers,  and, 
holding  them  in  his  left  hand,  without  minding  the  dripping 
wax,  turned  towards  the  young  couple.  It  was  the  same 
old  man  who  had  heard  Levin's  confession.  He  looked  at 
the  bride  and  bridegroom  out  of  his  sad,  weary  eyes,  and 
then,  with  a  sigh,  blessed  Levin  with  his  right  hand  ;  then, 
with  especial  tenderness,  placed  his  fingers  on  Kitty's  bended 
head,  gave  them  the  candles,  moved  quietly  away,  and  took 
tlie  censer. 

"Is  this  all  real?"  thought  Levin,  glancing  at  Kitty's 
profile,  and  noticing  from  the  motion  of  her  lips  and  her 
eyebrows,  that  she  felt  his  look.  She  did  not  raise  her  head; 
but  he  knew  from  the  trembling  of  the  ruche,  which  reached 
to  her  little  pink  ear,  that  she  was  stifling  a  sigh,  and  he 
saw  her  hand,  imprisoned  in  a  long  glove,  tremble  as  it  held 
the  candle. 

Everything  at  once  vanished  from  his  memory,  —  his  late 
arrival,  his  dissatisfaction  with  his  friends,  the  foolish  affair 
of  the  shirt ;  he  no  longer  was  conscious  of  anything  but  a 
mixed  feeling  of  terror  and  joy. 


ANNA  KARENINA.  459 

The  archdeacon,  a  handsome  man  with  hair  curling  all 
around  his  head,  wearing  a  dalmatica  of  silver  cloth,  ad- 
vanced, raised  his  stole  with  two  fingers,  in  an  easy  way, 
and  stopped  before  the  priest. 

"Bless  us,  O  Lord!"  he  intoned  slowly,  and  the  words 
echoed  solemnly  through  the  air. 

"  May  the  Lord  bless  you  now  and  through  all  ages," 
replied  the  old  priest  in  a  sweet  and  musical  voice,  still 
turning  over  the  leaves. 

And  the  response  chanted  by  the  invisible  choir,  filled  the 
church  with  a  deep,  full  sound,  which  increased,  then  ceased 
for  a  moment,  and  softly  died  away. 

They  prayed  as  usual  for  the  eternal  repose  and  welfare 
of  their  souls,  for  the  synod,  and  the  emperor,  and  then  for 
the  servants  of  God,  Konstantin  and  Ekaterina. 

"  Let  us  pray  the  Lord  to  send  them  his  love,  his  peace, 
and  his  aid,"  the  whole  church  seemed  to  say  in  the  voice  of 
the  archdeacon. 

Levin  listened  to  these  words,  and  was  impressed  by 
them.  "  How  did  they  know  that  aid  was  exactly  what  I 
need?  Yes,  aid.  What  can  I  know,  what  can  I  do,  with- 
out help?"  he  thought,  recalling  his  doubts  and  his  recent 
fears. 

When  the  deacon  had  ended  the  liturgy,  the  priest,  with  a 
book  in  his  hand,  turned  toward  the  bridal  couple,  — 

"O  God  Eternal,  who  unitest  by  an  indissoluble  bond 
those  who  are  separate,"  he  read  in  a  strong,  melodious 
voice,  "thou  who  didst  bless  Isaac  and  Rebecca,  and  showest 
thy  mercy  to  their  descendants,  bless  also  thy  servants, 
Konstantin  and  Ekaterina,  and  pour  forth  thy  benefits  upon 
them.  For  the  glory  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  as  it  was  in  the  beginning,  is  now,  and  ever 
shall  be"  — 

"Amen,"  again  chanted  the  invisible  choir. 

"  '  Who  unitest  by  an  indissoluble  bond  those  who  are 
separate !  '  How  those  profound  words  respond  to  what 
one  feels  at  such  a  time  !  Does  she  understand  it  as  I  do?" 
thought  Levin.  And  he  gazed  into  her  face,  and  tried  to 
read  her  thoughts. 

From  the  expression  of  Kitty's  face  he  concluded  that  she 
did  feel  it  as  he  did  ;  but  he  was  mistaken  ;  —  absorbed  by 
the  feeling  which  overpowered  and  filled  her  heart  more  and 
more,  she  had  scarcely  followed  the  religious  service.  She 


400  ANNA  KARENINA. 

felt  a  deep  joy  at  seeing  at  last  fulfilled  that  which,  for  six 
weeks,  had  made  her  happy  and  restless  by  turns.  From 
the  moment  when,  in  her  cinnamon-colored  dress,  she  had 
approached  Levin  to  give  herself  silently  wholly  to  him,  the 
past,  she  felt,  had  been  torn  from  her  soul,  and  had  given 
place  to  another  existence,  new  and  unknown,  without,  how- 
ever, changing  her  outward  life.  These  six  weeks  had  been 
at  once  a  very  happy  and  very  trying  time.  Her  whole  life, 
her  hopes  and  desires,  were  all  concentrated  on  this  man, 
whom  she  did  not  fully  understand,  towards  whom  she  felt  a 
sentiment  which  she  understood  still  less,  and  who,  attract- 
ing her  and  repelling  her  by  turns,  inspired  her  with  a  com- 
plete and  absolute  indifference  towards  her  past  life.  Her 
former  habits,  the  things  that  she  had  loved,  and  even  her 
relatives,  whom  she  loved,  and  who  loved  her,  her  mother, 
who  was  pained  by  her  indifference,  and  her  gentle  father, 
whom  she  had  loved  more  than  any  one  else  in  the  world,  — 
none  of  them  were  anything  more  to  her ;  and  while  alarmed 
by  her  disloyalty,  she  rejoiced  in  the  sentiment  which  was 
the  cause  of  it.  But  this  new  life  had  not  yet  begun,  and 
she  could  form  no  definite  idea  of  it.  It  was  a  sweet  and 
terrible  expectation  of  something  new  and  unknown  ;  and 
this  expectation,  as  well  as  the  remorse  of  not  regretting  the 
past,  were  at  an  end,  and  the  new  life  was  beginning.  She 
was  frightened  naturalty,  but  the  present  moment  was  only 
the  sanctification  of  the  decisive  hour  which  came  six  weeks 
before. 

The  priest,  turning  towards  the  lectern,  took  Kitty's  little 
ring,  and  with  difficulty  passed  it  as  far  as  the  first  joint  of 
Levin's  finger. 

"  I  unite  thee,  Konstantin,  servant  of  God,  to  Ekatarina, 
servant  of  God  ;  "  and  he  repeated  the  same  formula  in  plac- 
ing a  large  ring  on  Kitty's  delicate  little  finger. 

The  bridal  pair  tried  to  understand  what  was  expected  of 
them,  but  each  time  made  a  mistake,  and  the  priest  corrected 
them  in  a  low  voice.  At  last  the  priest,  blessing  them  with 
his  fingers,  again  gave  Kitty  the  large  ring,  and  Levin  the 
small  one,  and  again  they  failed  to  interchange  them  as  they 
should  have  done.  Dolly,  Tchirikof  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
stepped  out  to  assist  them  in  their  difficulty.  The  people 
around  them  smiled,  and  whispered;  but  they  remained 
more  serious  and  solemn  than  before  ;  and  the  smile  on  Ste- 
pan Arkadyevitoh's  face,  as  he  went  to  them,  died  away.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  a  smile  might  be  offensive  to  them. 


ANNA   KABENINA.  461 

"  O  Thou  who,  from  the  beginning  of  the  world,  hast 
created  man,  male  and  female,"  continued  the  priest  after 
the  ceremony  of  the  rings,  "  and  hast  given  him  woman  to 
be  la's  inseparable  aid,  do  Thou,  our  Lord  God,  bless  thy 
servants  Konstantin  and  Ekatarina,  and  confirm  their  nuptials 
in  faith  and  concord  and  truth  and  love  !  " 

Levin's  breast  heaved ;  disobedient  tears  filled  his  eyes. 
He  felt  that  all  his  thoughts  on  marriage,  his  visions  of  the 
future,  had  hitherto  been  infantile.  And  this  was  something 
that  had  never  been  comprehensible  to  him ;  and  now  he 
understood  its  meaning  less  than  ever. 

V. 

ALL  Moscow  was  at  the  marriage.  In  this  crowd  of  hand- 
somely dressed  women,  and  men  in  white  neckties  or  in  uni- 
form, there  was  a  cautious  whispering,  especially  among  the 
men,  for  the  women  were  absorbed  in  observing  all  the  details 
of  the  ceremony  so  full  of  interest  for  them. 

A  little  group  of  friends  surrounded  the  bride,  and  among 
them  were  her  two  sisters,  Dolly,  and  the  beautiful  Madame 
Lvova  just  returned  from  abroad. 

"  Why  is  Mary  in  lilac  at  a  wedding?  It  is  almost  mourn- 
ing," said  Madame  KorsuuskaTa. 

"  With  her  complexion  it's  her  only  salvation,"  replied 
Madame  Drubetskai'a.  k'But  why  did  the}'  have  the  cere- 
mony in  the  evening?  That  savors  of  the  merchant." 

"It  is  pleasauter.  I,  too,  was  married  in  the  evening," 
said  Madame  Korsunska'ia,  sighing,  and  recalling  how  beau- 
tiful she  had  been  on  that  day,  and  how  ridiculously  in  love 
with  her  her  husband  had  been.  Now  it  was  all  so  different ! 

"  They  say  that  those  who  have  been  shafers  more  than  ten 
times  never  marry.  I  tried  to  make  myself  proof  against 
marriage,  in  this  way,  but  the  place  was  taken,"  said  Count 
Siniavin  to  the  handsome  young  Princess  Tcharskaia,  who 
had  designs  on  him. 

The  latter  only  replied  with  a  smile.  She  was  looking  at 
Kitty  and  thinking  what  she  would  do  when  it  came  her  turn 
to  l>e  standing  in  Kitty's  place,  with  Count  Siniavin  ;  then  she 
would  remind  him  of  the  joke  that  he  had  made. 

Shcherbatsky  confided  to  the  old  Freilina  Nikolayeva  his 
intention  to  place  the  crown  on  Kitty's  headdress  to  bring 
her  good  luck. 


462  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

"  There  is  no  need  of  wearing  a  headdress,"  replied  Fre"i- 
lina  Nikolayeva,  deciding  that  it'  the  widower  whom  she  was 
setting  her  cap  for  should  offer  himself,  she  would  be  married 
very  simply.  "  I  don't  like  this  display." 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  was  jesting  with  the  lady  next  him,  de- 
claring that  the  fashion  of  wedding  tours  was  becoming  wide- 
spread because  young  couples  were  shamefaced. 

"  Your  brother  may  well  be  proud  of  his  choice..  She  is 
charming.  You  must  envy  him." 

"  The  time  has  gone  by  for  that,  Darya  Dmitrievna,"  he 
replied,  and  an  unexpected  expression  of  sadness  overspread 
his  face. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  telling  his  sister-in-law  his  conun- 
drum about  divorce. 

"  Somebody  ought  to  arrange  her  wreath,"  replied  the 
latter,  without  listening. 

' k  What  a  shame  that  she  has  grown  so  ugly !  "  said  the 
Countess  Nordstone  to  Madame  Lvova.  k'  After  all,  he  isn't 
worth  her  little  finger,  is  he  ?  " 

"I  don't  agree  with  yon;  I  am  very  much  pleased  with 
him,  and  not  only  because  he  is  going  to  be  my  leav-fr&re" 
replied  Madame  Lvova.  "  How  well  he  appears  !  It  is  so 
difficult  to  appear  well  at  such  a  time.  He  is  neither  ridicu- 
lous nor  stiff ;  one  feels  that  he  is  touched." 

"  Did  you  expect  this  marriage?" 

"  Almost.     He  has  always  been  in  love  with  her." 

"  Nu!  We  shall  see  which  will  be  the  first  to  step  on  the 
carpet.  I  have  advised  Kitty  to  look  out  for  that." 

"That  was  not  worth  while,"  replied  Madame  Lvova  ;  "in 
our  family  we  are  all  submissive  to  our  husbands." 

"  But  I  have  taken  pains  to  keep  mine  under  the  thumb. 
—  How  is  it  with  you,  Dolly?" 

Dolly  was  standing  near  them,  and  heard  them,  but  she 
did  not  reply.  She  was  affected  ;  tears  filled  her  eyes,  and 
she  could  not  have  uttered  a  word  without  crying.  She  was 
glad  for  Kitty  and  Levin  ;  she  was  thinking  of  her  own 
wedding;  and  as  she  glanced  at  the- brilliant  Stepau  Arkad- 
yevitch, she  forgot  the  real  state  of  things,  and  only  remem- 
bered his  first,  innocent  love.  She  was  thinking,  too,  of 
other  women,  —  her  friends,  —  whom  she  remembered  at  this 
important  and  solemn  hour  of  their  lives  ;  how  they,  like 
Kitty,  stood  under  the  crown  ;  how  they  renounced  the  p.-ist 
with  joy,  and  began  a  mysterious  future,  with  hope  and  fear 


AXNA   KARtiXZXA.  463 

in  their  hearts.  Amoug  the  number  she  recalled  her  dear 
Aimu,  who  she  had  just  heard  was  to  be  divorced;  she  had 
seen  her  enveloped  iu  a  white  veil,  as  pure  as  Kitty,  with 
her  wreath  of  orange-blossoms.  And  now?  "It  is  terribly 
strange  !  "  she  whispered. 

The  sisters  and  friends  were  not  the  only  ones  to  follow 
with  interest  the  minutest  details  of  the  ceremony  ;  there 
were  women  among  the  strangers  looking  on,  who  held  their 
breath,  for  fear  of  losing  a  single  movement  of  bride  or 
bridegroom,  and  who  replied  absent-mindedly  to  the  jokes 
or  idle  remarks  of  the  men,  often  not  even  hearing  them. 

"  Why  is  she  so  troubled?  Are  they  marrying  her  against 
her  will? " 

"Against  her  will?  to  such  a  handsome  man?  Is  he  a 
prince?  " 

"  Is  the  one  in  white  satin  her  sister?  NIL!  Just  hear 
the  deacon  howl,  '  Let  her  fear  her  husband' !" 

"  Are  the  singers  from  Tchudof  ?"  l 

"  No  ;  from  the  synod." 

"I  have  asked  the  servant  about  it.  He  says  that  her 
husband  is  going  to  take  her  away  to  his  estate.  Awfully 
rich,  they  say.  That  is  why  she  is  marrying  him." 

"They  make  a  pretty  pair." 

"  And  you  pretend  to  sa}',  Ma^a  Vasilievna,  that  they 
don't  wear  hoop-skirts  any  longer.  Just  look  at  that  one  in 
a  puce-colored  dress  !  You  would  say  she  was  an  ambassa- 
dor's wife  by  the  way  she  is  dressed.  Do  you  see  now?  " 

'  •  What  a  sweet  little  creature  the  bride  is  !  —  like  a  lamb 
for  the  slaughter.  You  may  say  what  you  please,  I  can't 
help  pitying  her." 

Such  were  the  remarks  of  the  spectators  who  had  been 
smart  enough  to  get  past  the  door. 

VI. 

JUST  at  this  moment  one  of  the  officiating  priests  came  to 
spread  a  piece  of  rose-colored  silk  through  the  centre  of  the 
church,  while  the  choir  intoned  a  psalm  of  difficult  and  com- 
plicated execution,  in  which  the  tenor  and  bass  sang  respon- 
sively  ;  the  priest  motioned  to  the  pair  and  pointed  to  the 
carpet. 

They  were  both  familiar  with  the  superstition  that  which- 

1  A  monastery,  famous  for  its  singers. 


464  ANNA   KARENINA. 

ever  one  of  a  bridal  couple  first  sets  foot  on  the  carpet  be- 
comes the  real  head  of  the  family,  but  neither  Kitty  nor 
Levin  thought  anything  about  it  alter  they  had  gone  a  few 
steps.  And  they  did  not  hear  the  remarks  exchanged  about 
them  or  the  discussions  between  those  who  thought  that  he 
was  the  first  and  those  who  were  sure  that  they  touched  it 
simultaneously. 

A  new  office  began.  Kitty  listened  to  the  words  of  the 
prayers  and  tried  to  understand  them,  but  without  success. 
The  further  the  ceremony  proceeded,  the  more  her  heart  over- 
flowed with  triumphant  joy,  which  prevented  her  from  fixing 
her  attention. 

They  prayed  to  God  that  "  the  pair  might  have  the  gift  of 
chastity,  and  might  rejoice  in  the  sight  of  many  sons  and 
daughters";  they  recalled  how  God  had  made  "the  first 
woman  from  Adam's  side,"  that  "the  woman  must  leave 
father  and  mother  and  cling  to  her  husband,  and  they  twain 
shall  be  one  flesh "  ;  they  prayed  God  ' '  to  give  them  fecun- 
dity and  prosperity,  as  he  had  blessed  Isaac  and  Rebecca, 
Joseph,  Moses,  and  Sephora,  and  to  let  them  see  their  chil- 
dren to  the  third  and  fourth  generation." 

"All  this  is  lovely,"  thought  Kitt_y  as  she  heard  these 
words,  and  a  smile  of  happiness,  which  was  reflected  on  the 
faces  of  all  who  saw  her,  shone  on  her  fair,  lovely  face. 

"  Put  it  entirely  on,"  were  the  words  heard  in  every  part 
of  the  church  as  the  priest  brought  forward  the  crowns,  and 
Shcherbatsky,  in  his  three-button  gloves,  tremblingly  held 
the  wreath  high  above  Kitty's  head. 

"  Put  it  on,"  whispered  the  latter,  smiling. 

Levin  turned  round,  and,  struck  by  her  radiant  face,  he 
felt,  like  her,  happy  and  serene. 

They  listened  with  joy  in  their  hearts  to  the  reading  of  the 
Epistle,  and  the  deacon's  voice  echoing  the  last  verse  fully 
appreciated  by  the  strangers,  who  were  impatiently  waiting 
for  it.  Joyfully  they  drank  the  warm  red  wine  and  water 
from  the  flat  cup.  and  followed  the  priest  almost  gayly  as  he 
led  them  around  the  lectern,  holding  both  their  hands  in  his. 
Shcherbatsky  and  Tchirikof,  carrying  the  crowns,  followed 
them  smiling,  and  constantly  treading  on  the  bride's  train. 
The  gleam  of  joy  on  Kitty's  face  seemed  to  be  communicated 
to  all  present.  Levin  was  sure  that  the  deacon  and  the 
priest  fell  under  its  influence  as  well  as  himself. 

When  the  crowns  had  been  laid  aside,  the  priest  read  the 


ANNA  KARBNINA.  465 

last  prayers  and  congratulated  the  young  couple.  Levin 
looked  at  Kitty  ami  thought  he  had  never  seen  her  so  beauti- 
ful ;  it  was  the  beauty  of  that  inward  radiance  which  trans- 
formed her ;  he  wanted  to  speak  to  her,  but  checked  himself, 
fearing  that  the  ceremony  was  not  yet  over.  The  priest  said 
gently  to  him,  with  a  kindly  smile,  — 

"Kiss  your  wife,  and  you,  kiss  your  husband,"  and  he 
took  their  candles. 

Levin  with  circumspection  kissed  bis  wife's  smiling  lips, 
gave  her  his  arm,  and  went  out  of  the  church  with  a  new 
and  strange  feeling  of  being  suddenly  very  near  to  her.  He 
had  not  been  able  to  realize  all  that  was  happening  until 
now,  and  did  not  begin  to  believe  it  until  their  astonished 
and  timid  eyes  met ;  then  he  felt  very  really  that  they  were 
indeed  one. 

That  same  evening,  after  the  supper,  the  young  couple 
started  for  the  country. 

VII. 

VRONSKY  and  Anna  had  been  travelling  together  in  Europe 
for  three  months.  They  had  visited  Venice,  Rome,  Naples  ; 
and  now  they  were  just  arrived  at  a  small  Italian  city,  where 
they  intended  to  make  a  considerable  stay. 

A  gentleman  was  asking  some  questions  of  the  impos- 
ing hotel-clerk,  who  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
scarcely  deigned  to  reply.  He  was  a  handsome  man,  with 
thick,  pomaded  hair,  through  which  ran  a  part  that  started 
from  his  neck.  He  wore  a  dress  suit,  and  a  huge  expanse 
of  white  linen  covered  his  bosom.  A  bunch  of  watch-charms 
was  poised  upon  his  rotund  belly.  Hearing  steps  on  the 
other  side  of  the  entrance,  the  major-domo  turned  around, 
and  seeing  the  Russian  count,  who  rented  his  most  expen- 
sive apartments,  he  respectfully  drew  his  hands  out  o£  his 
pockets,  and,  with  a  low  bow,  informed  the  count  that  a 
messenger  had  come  to  say  that  the  palazzo  was  at  his 
service.  The  agent  was  ready  to  sign  the  agreement. 

"Ah!  Very  good,"  said  Vronsky.  "Is  madame  at 
home?" 

"  She  has  been  out,  but  she  has  returned,"  replied  the 
major-domo. 

Vronsky  took  off  his  wide-brimmed  soft  hat,  and  wiped 
his  heated  forehead  with  his  handkerchief,  and  smoothed 


466  ANNA    KAREN1NA. 

his  hair,  which  was  so  arranged  as  to  hide  his  baldness. 
Then  he  cast  a  hasty  glance  at  the  stranger,  who  had 
stopped,  and  was  looking  at  him  earnestly. 

'•This  gentleman  is  a  Russian,  and  was  inquiring  for 
you,"  said  the  major-domo. 

With  a  ridiculous  feeling  of  anger  because  he  never  could 
get  away  from  acquaintances,  and  at  the  same  time  a  pleas- 
ure at  the  idea  of  any  distraction  from  his  monotonous 
existence,  Vronsky  turned  about,  and  at  one  and  the  same 
time  their  eyes  met. 

'•  Golennishchef !" 

"  Vronsky  !  " 

It  was  indeed  Golennishchef,  one  of  Vronsky's  school- 
mates in  the  Corps  of  Pages.  He  belonged  to  the  liberal 
party ;  and,  after  his  graduation,  he  took  a  civil  rank 
(fc/im),  and  did  not  enter  the  army.  The  comrades  had 
entirely  drifted  apart  since  their  graduation,  and  had  not 
even  met  but  once.  At  this  meeting  Vronsky  perceived 
that  Goleunishchef  looked  down  from  the  lofty  heights  of  his 
liberal  profession  upon  Vrousky's  profession  and  career. 
Consequently,  Vronsky,  at  this  meeting  with  Golennishchef, 
gave  him  that  cold  and  haughty  reception  which  it  was  his 
fashion  to  treat  people  withal,  as  much  as  to  say :  'You  may 
like  or  dislike  my  manner  of  life,  but  it  is  absolutely  of  no 
consequence  to  me  ;  you  must  prize  me  if  you  want  to  know 
me.'  Golenuishchef  was  entirely  indifferent  to  Vronsky's 
manner.  That  meeting,  it  would  seem,  must  have  driven 
them  still  further  apart ;  yet,  now  at  the  sight  of  each  other, 
they  each  uttered  a  cry  of  delight.  Vronsky  had  never 
realized  how  glad  he  would  be  to  see  Golennishchef ;  but 
the  fact  was,  that  he  did  not  know  how  bored  he  was.  He 
forgot  the  unpleasant  circumstances  of  their  previous  meet- 
ing, and  with  manifest  pleasure  extended  his  hand.  And 
likewise  a  look  of  satisfaction  succeeded  the  troubled  expres- 
sion on  Golennishchef 's  face. 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you  !  "  said  Vronsky,  with  a 
friendly  smile,  that  showed  his  handsome  white  teeth. 

*'  I  heard  the  name  Vronsky,  but  which  —  I  did  not  know 
—  very,  very  glad." 

"  But  come  in  !     Nu!     What  are  you  doing?" 

"Oh,  I  have  been  living  here  for  more  than  a  year,  work- 
ing." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Vronsky,  with  interest.     "  But  come  in." 


KARtiXIXA.  467 

And,  according  to  the  habit  of  Russians  when  the^y  do 
not  wish  to  be  understood  by  their  servants,  he  said  in 
French, — 

"  Do  you  know  Madame  Kar6nina?  "We  have  been  trav- 
elling together.  I  was  just  going  to  her  room."  And  while 
he  was  speaking  he  studied  Golennishchef  s  face. 

"Ah!  I  did  not  know"  (but  he  did  know),  remarked 
Golennishchef  carelessly.  "  Have  you  been  here  long?" 

"I?  Oh,  this  is  the  fourth  day,"  replied  Vrousky,  contin- 
uing to  study  his  companion. 

"Da!  He  is  a  gentleman,  and  looks  upon  things  in  the 
right  light,"  he  said  to  himself,  giving  a  favorable  interpreta- 
tion to  Golennishchef's  way  of  turning  the  conversation  ;  "he 
can  be  presented  to  Anna ;  his  views  are  all  right." 

Vronsky,  during  this  three  months  of  travel  with  Anna, 
had  felt  every  time  that  he  met  with  new  acquaintances  a 
hesitation  as  to  the  manner  in  which  they  would  look  upon 
his  relations  with  Anna,  and  for  the  most  part  the  men  had 
looked  upon  them  "•  in  the  right  light."  If  he  or  they  had 
been  asked  what  they  meant  by  the  expression  "  in  the  right 
light,"  they  would  have  found  it  hard  to  tell ;  but  they  did  not 
care  to  press  the  matter,  and  contented  themselves  with  a 
wise  discretion,  not  asking  questions  or  making  allusions, 
and  behaved  altogether  in  the  way  of  well-bred  people  when 
presented  with  a  delicate  and  complex  situation. 

Vronsky  instantly  saw  that  Golennishchef  was  one  of  these 
discreet  people,  and  was  therefore  glad  of  the  encounter. 
Indeed,  Golennishchef  would  behave  towards  Madame 
Kar6nina  in  exactly  the  manner  that  Vronsky  demanded,  and 
it  evidently  would  cost  him  no  effort  to  avoid  all  words  that 
would  lead  to  unpleasant  suggestions. 

He  had  never  seen  Anna  before,  and  was  delighted  with 
her  beauty,  and  still  more  with  the  perfect  simplicity  with 
which  she  accepted  the  situation.  She  flushed  when  she  saw 
Vronsky  come  in  with  Golennishchef,  and  this  infantile  color 
which  spread  over  her  frank  and  lovely  face  pleased  him 
immensely.  But  he  was  delighted  because,  even  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger,  which  might  have  caused  restraint,  she 
called  Vronsky  Aleks£i,  and  told  about  their  plans  for  a  new 
house  of  their  own,  which  she  dignified  with  the  name  of 
palazzo.  This  simple  and  straightforward  facing  of  their 
situation  was  delightful  to  Golennishchef.  Perceiving 
Anna  a  happy  and  vivacious  manner,  knowing  Aleksei  Alek- 


468  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

sandrovitch  and  Vronsk}',  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  under- 
stood, as  she  herself  did  not  understand)  how  she  could 
desert  her  unhappy  husband  and  her  son,  and  lose  her  good 
repute,  and  still  feel  animated,  gay,  and  happy. 

"This  palazzo  is  in  the  guide-book,"  said  Golennishchef. 
"  There  is  a  superb  Tintoretto  there.  In  his  latest  manner." 

"  Do  you  know?  It  is  splendid  weather  ;  let's  go  over  and 
look  at  it  again,"  said  Vronsky,  addressing  Anna. 

ill  should  like  to  very  much.  I  will  go  and  put  on  my 
hat.  Did  you  say  it  was  hot?  "  halting  on  the  threshold  and 
looking  back  to  Vronsky.  And  again  the  bright  color  came 
into  her  face. 

Vronsky  saw  by  her  look  that  she  was  uncertain  in  what 
way  to  treat  Golennishchef,  and  was  mutely  entreating  him 
to  tell  her  if  her  behavior  was  what  he  desired. 

He  looked  at  her  long  and  tenderly.     Then  he  replied,  — 

"  No,  not  very." 

Anna  perceived  by  his  eyes  that  he  was  satisfied  with  her, 
and  replying  with  a  smile,  she  went  out  with  a  quick  and 
graceful  motion. 

The  friends  looked  at  each  other,  and  there  came  into  the 
faces  of  both  an  expression  of  embarrassment,  as  though 
Golennishchef,  admiring  her,  wished  to  make  some  compli- 
mentary remark  and  had  not  the  courage,  while  Vronsky 
both  wished  and  feared  to  hear  it. 

"  Talc  vot  Jeak,"  Vronsky  began,  so  that  some  conversa- 
tion might  be  started.  "  So  you  are  settled  here?  Are  you 
still  interested  in  the  same  pursuits?"  he  asked,  remember- 
ing that  he  had  been  told  that  Golennishchef  was  writing 
something. 

"  Yes  ;  I  have  been  writing  the  second  part  of  the  Tit-o 
Origins,"  replied  Golennishchef,  kindling  with  delight  at  this 
question  ;  "  that  is,  to  be  more  exact,  I  am  not  writing  yet, 
but  have  been  collecting  and  preparing  my  materials.  It 
will  be  far  more  extended,  and  will  endeavor  to  answer  all 
questions.  With  us,  in  Russia,  they  can't  understand  that 
we  are  the  successors  of  Byzantium,"  and  he  began  a  long 
dissertation. ' 

Vronsky  at  first  was  confused  because  he  did  not  know 
about  the  first  part  of  the  Two  Origins,  about  which  the 
author  spoke  as  though  it  were  a  classic.  But  afterwards,  as 
Golennishchef  began  to  develop  his  thought,  and  Vronsky 
saw  what  he  meant,  his  interest  wakened  even  though  he  did 


ANNA   KARBNINA.  469 

not  know  about  the  Two  Origins;  and  as  he  listened,  he 
felt  that  his  ideas  were  good.  But  it  was  unpleasant  for 
him  to  see  Goleuuishehefs  agitation.  The  longer  he  spoke, 
the  brighter  grew  his  eyes,  the  more  animated  were  his  argu- 
ments in  refutation  of  his  opponents,  and  the  more  angry 
and  excited  the  expression  of  his  face.  Vronsky  remem- 
bered Goleunishchef  at  the  School  of  Pages,  —  a  lad  of 
small  stature,  thin,  nervous,  agile,  a  good-hearted  and  good- 
natured  molehill,,  always  at  the  head  of  his  class,  and  he 
could  not  imagine  how  he  had  changed  so  much  and  become 
so  irritable.  And  it  was  especially  incomprehensible  to  him 
that  Goleuuishchef,  a  man  of  good  social  standing,  should  put 
himself  down  on  the  level  of  these  common  scribblers,  and  get 
angry  with  them  because  they  criticised  him.  Was  it  worth 
while?  It  displeased  him ;  but,  as  he  felt  that  Golennishchef 
was  making  himself  miserable,  he  was  sorry  for  him. 

This  unhappy  expression  was  particularly  noticeable  on  his 
vivacious,  handsome  face  just  as  Anna  came  in,  he  was  so 
much  occupied  with  the  angry  expression  of  his  thoughts. 

As  Anna,  in  walking  costume,  and  with  a  sunshade  in  her 
lovely,  slender  hand,  came  in  and  stood  near  them,  Vronsky 
was  happy  to  turn  away  from  Golennishchef's  keen  and 
feverish  eyes,  and  to  look  with  ever-new  love  at  his  charming 
friend,  radiant  with  life  and  gayety. 

It  was  hard  for  Golennishchef  to  come  to  himself,  and  at 
first  he  was  surly  and  cross  ;  but  Anna,  through  her  amiable 
disposition,  quickly  brought  him  into  sympathy  with  her  gay 
and  natural  manner.  She  gradually  led  the  conversation 
round  to  painting,  about  which  he  spoke  very  well,  and  she 
listened  to  him  attentively. 

"  I  am  very  glad  of  one  thing,"  said  Anna  to  Golennish- 
chef, "  Aleksei  will  have  a  nice  atelier.  Of  course  thou  hast 
been  into  this  room?"  she  added,  turning  to  Vronsky  and 
speaking  to  him  in  Russian,  using  the  familiar  tui  (thou)  as 
though  she  already  looked  upon  Golennishchef  as  an  inti- 
mate, before  whom  it  was  not  necessary  to  be  reserved. 

"Do  you  paint?"  asked  Golennishchef,  turning  viva- 
ciously to  Vronsky. 

"  Yes,  I  used  to  paint  long  ago,  and  now  I  am  going  to 
take  it  up  again,"  replied  Vronsky,  with  color. 

"  He  has  great  talent,"  cried  Anna,  with  a  radiant  smile. 
"Of  course  I  am  not  a  judge.  But  good  judges  whom  I 
know  say  so." 


470  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 


VIII. 

ANNA,  during  this  first  period  of  freedom  and  rapid  conva- 
lescence, felt  herself  exuberantly  happy  and  full  of  joyous 
life.  The  memory  of  her  husband's  unhappiness  did  not 
poison  her  pleasure.  This  memory  in  one  way  was  too  hor- 
rible to  think  of.  In  another,  her  husband's  uuhappiness 
was  the  cause  of  a  happiness  for  her  too  great  to  allow 
regret.  The  memory  of  everything  that  had  followed  since 
her  sickness,  the  reconciliation  with  her  husband,  the  quar- 
rel, Vronsky's  wound,  his  sudden  appearance,  the  prepara- 
tions for  the  divorce,  the  flight  from  her  husband's  home,  the 
separation  from  her  son,  —  all  this  seemed  like  a  frightful 
dream,  from  which  her  journey  abroad  alone  with  Vrousky 
had  relieved  her.  Of  course,  what  she  had  done  was  evil, 
but  this  was  her  only  salvation,  and  it  was  better  not  to 
return  to  those  horrible  memories. 

There  was  one  consolation  which  somewhat  appeased  her 
conscience  whenever  she  thought  of  the  past.  She  expressed 
it  to  herself  at  the  very  first  moment  of  her  departure : 
"  I  have  done  my  husband  an  irrevocable  injury,  but  at  least 
I  get  no  advantage  from  his  misfortune.  I  also  suffer  and 
shall  suffer.  I  give  up  all  that  was  dearest  to  me  ;  I  give  up 
my  good  name  and  my  son.  I  have  sinned,  and  therefore  I 
do  not  desire  happiness  or  a  divorce,  and  I  accept  my 
shame  and  the  separation  from  my  son." 

But  however  sincere  Anna  was  when  she  reasoned  thus, 
she  had  not  suffered.  She  had  felt  no  shame.  With  that 
tact  which  both  she  and  Vronsky  possessed  to  perfection  they 
had  avoided,  while  abroad,  any  meeting  with  Russian  ladies, 
and  the\"  had  never  put  themselves  into  any  false  position, 
but  had  associated  only  with  those  who  pretended  to  under- 
stand their  situation  much  better  than  they  themselves  did. 
Nor  even  the  separation  from  her  son,  whom  she  loved, 
caused  her  any  pain  at  this  time.  Her  baby,  her  daughter, 
was  so  lovely  and  so  filled  her  heart,  that  she  seemed  to  have 
only  the  daughter,  and  rarely  thought  of  the  sou. 

The  joy  of  living  caused  by  her  convalescence  was  so  keen, 
the  conditions  of  her  existence  were  so  new  and  delightful, 
that  Anna  felt  extraordinarily  happy.  The  more  she  came 
to  know  Vronsky,  the  more  she  loved.  She  loved  him  for  his 
own  sake  and  for  his  love  for  her.  The  complete  surrender 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  471 

to  him  was  a  delight.  His  presence  was  always  a  joy.  All 
the  traits  of  his  character  seemed  to  her  to  improve  on 
acquaintance.  His  appearance,  now  that  he  dressed  in  civil 
attire  instead  of  uniform,  was  as  entrancing  to  her  as  for  a 
young  girl  desperately  in  love.  In  everything  that  he  said, 
thought,  or  did  she  saw  only  the  good  and  the  noble  side. 
She  herself  felt  almost  frightened  at  this  excessive  worship 
of  him.  She  tried  in  vain  to  find  any  imperfection  in  him. 
She  did  not  dare  to  confess  to  him  her  own  inferiority,  lest 
he,  knowing  it,  should  love  her  less.  And  now  there  was 
nothing  that  terrified  her  so  as  the  thought  of  losing  his  love. 
But  her  terror  was  not  justified  by  Vronsky's  conduct ;  he 
never  manifested  the  slightest  regret  at  having  sacrificed  to 
his  passion  a  career  in  which  he  would  certainly  have  played 
an  important  part.  Moreover,  he  was  always  respectful,  and 
careful  that  she  should  never  feel  in  the  slightest  degree  the 
compromising  character  of  her  position.  This  man,  so  mas- 
culine, so  wilful,  had  no  will  beside  hers,  and  his  only  aim 
seemed  to  be  to  anticipate  her  desires.  And  she  could  not 
but  appreciate  this,  though  this  assiduity  itself  in  his  atten- 
tions, this  atmosphere  of  lover  which  he  threw  around  her, 
sometimes  wearied  her. 

Vronsky,  meantime,  notwithstanding  the  complete  reali- 
zation of  all  that  he  had  desired  so  long,  was  not  entirely 
happy.  He  soon  began  to  feel  that  the  accomplishment 
of  his  desires  was  only  a  small  portion  of  the  mountain  of 
pleasure  which  he  had  anticipated.  This  reality  now  came 
to  him  like  the  eternal  error  which  people  make,  who  imagine 
how  great  their  pleasure  will  be  in  the  accomplishment  of 
their  desires.  When  he  was  first  united  with  her,  and  had 
put  on  his  citizen's  clothes,  he  felt  all  the  pleasure  of  a 
freedom  such  as  he  had  never  known  before  ;  and  he  was 
satisfied  with  that,  and  with  her  love,  but  not  for  long.  He 
soon  began  to  feel  in  his  soul  desires  that  caused  pain.  In- 
voluntarily, he  began  to  follow  every  light  caprice  as  though 
they  were  serious  aspirations  and  ends. 

To  fill  sixteen  hours  of  each  day  was  not  easy,  living  as 
they  did  abroad  in  perfect  freedom,  away  from  the  social 
and  military  duties  that  took  his  time  at  Petersburg.  He 
could  not  think  of  trying  the  distractions  which  he  had 
known  in  the  previous  trips  abroad  ;  one  time  a  scheme  of  a 
supper  with  some  acquaintances  caused  Anna  a  most  unex- 
pected and  uncomfortable  storm  of  despair.  The  enjoyment 


472  ANNA    KARtiNIXA. 

with  foreign  or  Russian  society  was  impossible  on  account  of 
the  peculiarity  of  their  relation.  And  to  amuse  himself  with 
the  curiosities  of  the  country  was  not  to  be  spoken  of,  not 
only  because  he  had  already  seen  them,  but  because  in  his 
quality  of  Russian  and  man  of  sense,  he  could  not  find 
in  them  that  immense  importance  that  the  English  are 
pleased  to  attach  to  them. 

And  as  a  hungry  animal  throws  itself  on  everything  that 
falls  before  its  teeth,  so  Vronsky,  with  extraordinary  indis- 
crimination, attacked,  now  politics,  now  painting,  now  new 
books. 

When  he  was  young,  he  had  shown  some  inclination 
towards  art,  and  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  his  money, 
had  made  a  collection  of  engravings.  And  now  he  took  up 
the  idea  of  painting,  in  order  to  give  his  activity  some  scope. 
He  was  not  lacking  in  good  task,  and  he  had  a  gift  of  imita- 
tion, which  he  confounded  with  original  talent.  All  styles 
were  one  to  him,  and  for  some  time  he  hung  doubtful  which 
he  would  choose,  —  the  religious,  the  historical,  genre,  or  the 
realistic.  He  understood  all  kinds,  and  could  get  inspiration 
for  each  ;  but  he  did  not  seek  his  inspiration  directly  from 
nature,  from  life  ;  and  thus  he  understood  neither,  except  as 
he  had  seen  them  expressed  in  art ;  but  he  executed  tolerable 
sketches.  More  than  all  others,  the  graceful  and  effective 
French  school  appealed  to  him,  and  he  began  a  portrait  of 
Anna  in  this  style.  She  wore  an  Italian  costume ;  and 
this  portrait  seemed  to  him,  and  to  all  who  saw  it,  very 
successful. 

IX. 

THE  old,  dilapitated  palazzo  in  which  they  set  up  their 
establishment  served  to  endow  Vrousky  with  an  agreeable 
illusion  ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  gone  through  a  meta- 
morphosis, and  from  a  Russian  proprietor,  a  colonel  in  retire- 
ment, he  had  been  changed  into  an  enlightened  amateur  and 
protector  of  art,  who,  in  his  own  modest  way,  painted  a 
little,  while  sacrificing  the  world,  his  ties,  his  ambition,  for  a 
woman's  love.  The  ancient  palace,  with  lofty  painted  ceil- 
ings, its  walls  covered  with  frescoes,  its  mosaic  floors,  its 
vases  on  mantel-piece  and  console,  its  yellow  tapestries,  its 
thick,  yellow  curtains  at  the  windows,  its  carved  doors,  and 
its  vast,  melancholy  halls,  filled  with  paintings,  lent  itself 
readilv  to  his  illusion. 


ANXA   KAEtiNINA.  473 

His  new  role  satisfied  Vronsky  for  some  time.  He  made 
the  acquaintance  of  an  Italian  paiuter,  under  whose  instruc- 
tion he  made  some  studies  from  nature.  At  the  same  time, 
he  undertook  to  make  investigations  into  Italian  lite  during 
the  middle  ages,  which  inspired  him  with  such  a  lively 
interest,  that  he  began  to  wear  a  mediaeval  hat,  and  throw  his 
plaid  over  his  shoulders  in  the  antique  st}"le,  which  was  very 
becoming  to  him. 

'•  Do  you  like  Mikhailof's  painting?"  asked  Vronsky  one 
morning  of  (iolennishchef,  who  came  in  to  see  him,  and  at 
the  same  time  he  handed  him  a  Russian  paper,  containing 
an  article  on  this  artist,  who  had  just  completed  a  picture  of 
such  merit,  that  it  had  been  sold  on  the  easel.  He  was 
living  in  this  same  city,  without  receiving  any  official  encour- 
agement or  aid ;  and  the  article  severely  criticised  the  gov- 
ernment and  the  academy  for  neglecting  an  artist  of  such 
genius. 

"•  I  know  him,"  replied  Golennishchef.  "  He  certainly  has 
no  lack  of  talent,  but  his  theories  are  absolutely  false.  He 
always  shows  the  Ivanof-Strausz-Renan  tendencies  in  his 
conceptions  of  Christ  and  the  religious  life." 

"  What  is  the  subject  of  his  painting?"  asked  Anna. 

"  Christ  before  Pilate.  The  Christ  is  a  Jew  of  the  most 
pronounced  type  of  realism." 

And  as  this  subject  was  a  favorite  one  with  him,  he  began 
to  develop  his  ideas. 

"  I  cannot  understand  how  they  can  fall  into  such  a  gross 
mistake.  The  type  of  the  Christ  in  art  was  well  defined  by 
the  old  masters.  If  they  want  to  represent  a  sage  or  a 
revolutionist,  let  them  take  Franklin  or  Sokrates,  or  Char- 
lotte Corday,  —  anybody  they  please, — but  not  Christ. 
He  is  the  oulv  one  that  art  ought  not  to  meddle  with,  and 
then  "  — 

"Is  it  true  that  this  Mikhailof  is  in  misery ? "  asked 
Vronsky,  who  felt  that  in  his  quality  of  Russian  Maecenas  he 
ought  to  find  some  way  of  aiding  the  artist  without  regard  to 
the  value  of  his  painting.  "  Couldn't  we  ask  him  to  paint 
Anna  Arkadyevna's  portrait?" 

'•Why  mine?"  she  demanded.  "After  .your  portrait  of 
me.  I  want  no  other.  It  would  be  better  to  let  him  paint 
Ani  [so  she  called  her  daughter],  or  her,"  she  added,  with 
a  furtive  glance  at  Vronsky,  and  pointing  to  the  pretty 
Italian  nurse,  who  was  just  taking  the  baby  into  the  garden. 


474  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

This  Italian  woman,  whose  mediaeval  type  of  beauty  Vrousky 
admired,  and  whose  face  he  had  taken  as  a  model,  was  the 
only  shadow  in  Anna's  life.  She  was  afraid  that  she  was 
going  to  be  jealous,  and  was  accordingly  all  the  more  kind 
to  her  and  her  little  boy.  Vronsky  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  then  catching  Anna's  e}'es,  he  turned  to  Golenuishchef. 

"  Do  you  know  this  Mikhailof  ?" 

"I  have  met  him.  He  is  an  original  \_tcl>udak~\ ,  without 
any  education,  —  one  of  these  new-fashioned  savages  such 
as  you  meet  with  now-a-days  —  you  know  them  —  these  free- 
thinkers, who  rush  d'emblee  [headlong]  into  atheism,  mate- 
rialism, universal  negation.  Once,"  Golennishchef  went  on 
to  say,  without  allowing  Vronsky  or  Anna  to  put  in  a  word, 
"  once  the  free-thinker  was  a  man  of  lofty,  religious,  and 
moral  ideas,  who  did  not  ignore  the  laws  by  which  society  is 
regulated,  and  who  reached  freedom  of  thought  only  after 
long  struggles.  But  now  we  have  a  new  type  of  them, — 
free-thinkers  who  grow  up  without  even  knowing  that  there 
are  such  things  as  laws  in  morality  and  religion,  who  will 
not  admit  that  sure  authorities  exist,  and  who  possess  only 
the  sentiment  of  negation  ,  in  a  word,  savages.  Mikhai'lof  is 
one  of  these.  He  is  the  son  of  a  major-domo  \_ober-laMi~]  at 
Moscow,  and  never  had  any  education.  He  entered  the 
academy,  and  showed  some  promise.  He  was  willing  to  be 
taught,  for  he  is  not  a  fool ;  and,  with  this  end  in  view,  he 
turned  to  that  source  of  all  learning,  —  the  magazines  and 
reviews.  In  the  good  old  times,  if  a  man  —  let  us  say  a 
Frenchman  —  wanted  to  get  an  education,  he  would  study 
the  classics,  —  the  preachers,  the  tragic  poets,  the  historians, 
the  philosophers  ;  and  you  can  see  all  the  intellectual  labor 
that  involved.  But  now-a-days  it  is  far  more  simple  ;  he 
turns  to  negative  literature,  and  it  is  very  easy  to  get  a 
smattering  of  such  a  science.  And,  again,  twenty  years  ago, 
this  same  literature  bore  traces  of  the  struggle  against  the 
authorities  and  secular  traditions  of  the  past ;  and  these 
very  traces  of  struggle  gave  an  inkling  that  these  things 
existed.  But  now  no  longer  are  pains  taken  to  combat  with 
the  past.  Men  are  contented  with  words.  —  natural  selection, 
Evolution,  struggle  for  existence,  negation,  and  all.  In  my 
article"  — 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we  must  do,"  said  Anna,  resolutely, 
cutting  short  Golennishchef  s  verbiage,  after  exchanging  a 
glance  with  Vronsky  ;  "let  us  go  and  see  your  painter." 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  475 

Golennishchef  readily  consented ;  and  as  the  artist's  studio 
was  situated  in  a  remote  quarter,  they  had  a  carriage  called. 
An  hour  later,  the  carriage,  with  Golennishchef,  Vronsk}-, 
and  Anna,  stopped  in  front  of  a  new  and  ugly  house.  A 
woman  came  to  receive  them,  and  told  them  that  Mikhai'lof 
was  at  his  studio,  only  a  few  steps  away.  The  visitors 
sent  in  their  cards,  and  begged  to  be  admitted  to  see  his 
paintings. 

X. 

MIKHAILOF  was  at  work  as  usual,  when  the  cards  of  Count 
Vronsky  and  Golennishchef  were  brought  him.  He  had 
been  painting  all  the  morning  in  his  studio ;  but  when  he 
reached  his  house,  he  became  enraged  with  his  wife  because 
of  her  failure  to  make  terms  with  an  exacting  landlady. 

"I  have  told  you  tweuty  times  not  to  dispute  with  her. 
You  are  a  fool  anyway  ;  but  when  you  try  to  argue  in  Italian, 
you  are  three  times  as  much  of  a  fool." 

"Why  do  you  get  behindhand  so?  It  is  not  my  fault. 
If  I  had  any  money  "  — 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  give  me  some  peace  !  "  cried  Mikhai'- 
lof, his  voice  thick  with  tears  ;  and  putting  his  hands  over 
his  ears,  he  hastily  rushed  to  his  workroom,  separated  from 
the  sitting-room  by  a  partition,  and  bolted  the  door.  "  She 
hasn't  any  common  sense,"  he  said  to  himself,  sitting  down 
at  his  table  and  addressing  himself  to  his  work  with  feverish 
ardor. 

He  never  worked  better  than  when  money  was  wanting, 
and  especially  after  a  quarrel  with  his  wife.  He  had  begun 
a  study  of  a  man  suddenly  seized  with  a  tempest  of  wrath. 
But  now  he  was  not  able  to  find  it,  and  so  he  went  back  to 
his  wife  with  an  air  of  vexation,  and  without  looking  at  her, 
asked  his  eldest  daughter  for  the  sketch  which  he  had  given 
her.  After  a  long  search  it  was  found,  soiled  and  covered 
with  drops  of  tallow.  He  took  it  as  it  was,  laid  it  on  the 
table,  examined  it  from  a  distance,  squinting  his  eyes,  and 
then  smiled,  with  a  satisfied  gesture. 

"So!  so!"  he  cried,  taking  a  pencil  and  drawing  some 
rapid  lines.  One  of  the  tallow  spots  gave  his  sketch  a  new 
aspect. 

As  he  worked  he  remembered  the  prominent  chin  of  the 
man  of  whom  lie  bought  his  cigars,  and  instantly  he  gave  his 
design  an  energetic  and  sharp  outline,  and  the  sketch  ceased 


476  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

to  be  something  vague  and  dead,  but  became  animated  and 
alive.  He  laughed  with  delight.  As  he  carefully  finished 
his  design,  the  two  cards  were  brought  him. 

"1  will  come  instantly,"  he  replied.  Then  he  went  back 
to  his  wife. 

"Nit,  come,  Sasha,  don't  be  vexed,"  he  said,  with  a  smile 
at  once  tender  and  timid.  "You  were  wrong;  so  was  J. 
I  will  settle  matters."  And  giving  her  a  kiss  of  reconcilia- 
tion, he  put  on  an  olive  overcoat  with  velvet  collar,  took  his 
hat,  and  hurried  to  his  studio,  greatly  wondering  what  the 
visit  of  these  stylish  Russian  geutlemen,  who  came  to  see 
him  in  a  carriage,  could  mean. 

In  last  analysis  his  opinion  on  the  painting  which  was  on 
exhibition  then  was  as  follows:  "No  one  could  produce 
another  like  it."  It  was  not  that  he  believed  himself  superior 
to  the  Raphaels ;  but  he  was  sure  that  he  had  accomplished 
in  it  his  utmost  desires,  and  he  did  not  believe  that  others 
could  do  as  much.  Yet  in  spite  of  this  conviction,  which 
dated  from  the  day  that  the  picture  wras  begun,  he  attached 
great  value  to  the  judgment  of  the  public,  and  the  expecta- 
tion of  what  this  judgment  would  be  stirred  him  to  the  depths 
of  his  soul.  He  felt  that  his  critics  had  a  depth  of  insight 
superior  even  to  his  own,  and  he  expected  to  have  them  dis- 
cover in  his  picture  new  features  that  had  escaped  his  own 
observation.  As  he  hurried  on  with  long  strides  he  was 
struck,  in  spite  of  his  preoccupation,  by  the  appearance  of 
Anna,  who  was  standing  in  a  soft  radiance  in  the  shadow  of 
the  portico,  talking  with  Golennishchef  and  watching  the 
artist's  approach,  as  though  she  were  trying  to  study  him 
from  a  distance.  The  artist,  without  definite  consciousness 
of  it,  instantly  stowed  away  in  the  pigeon-holes  of  his  brain 
the  impression  that  she  made  on  him,  to  make  use  of  it  some 
day,  just  as  he  had  used  the  tobacconist's  chin. 

The  visitors,  whose  ideas  of  Mikhaflof  had  been  greatly 
modified  by  Golenuishchef's  description  of  him,  were  still 
more  disenchanted  when  they  saw  him.  He  was  a  thick-set 
man,  of  medium  height,  and  his  nervous  walk,  his  chestnut- 
colored  hat,  his  olive-green  coat,  and  his  tight  trousers,  out 
of  date,  produced  an  impression  which  the  vulgarity  of  bis  long 
face  and  the  mixture  of  timidity  and  pretentious  dignity  which 
it  expressed  were  not  calculated  to  render  more  favorable. 

"  Do  me  the  honor  to  enter,"  he  said,  trying  to  assume  an 
air  of  indifference,  while  he  turned  the  key  and  opened  the 
door  of  his  studio. 


ANNA  KARtiNlNA.  477 


XI. 

As  soon  as  they  entered,  Mikhai'lof  again  glanced  at  his 
guests.  Vrousky's  face,  with  its  rather  prominent  cheek- 
bones, instantly  engraved  itself  in  his  memory,  for  this  man's 
artistic  sense  was  always  at  work,  storing  up  new  materials. 
His  delicate  and  shrewd  observations  were  based  on  almost 
imperceptible  indications.  "  That  one  [meaning  Golennish- 
chef]  must  be  a  Russian  resident  in  Italy."  Mikhai'lof 
could  not  remember  either  his  name  or  the  place  where  he 
had  met  him,  and  still  less,  whether  he  had  ever  spoken 
to  him  ;  but  he  remembered  the  faces  that  he  saw,  and  he 
knew  that  he  had  once  before  classed  him  in  the  immense 
category  of  faces  which  lack  expression  in  spite  an  apparent 
air  of  originality.  A  very  high  forehead  and  an  abundance 
of  long  hair  gave  his  head  a  semblance  of  individuality  which 
might  easily  deceive,  while  an  expression  of  puerile  agitation 
was  concentrated  in  the  narrow  space  between  his  eyes. 
Vronsky  and  Anna  were,  according  to  Mikhai'lof's  intuition, 
Russians  of  high  rank,  rich,  and  ignorant  of  art,  like  all 
rich  Russians  who  play  the  amateur  and  the  connoisseur. 

"They  have  undoubtedly  seen  all  the  old  galleries,"  he 
thought,  "and  now  are  visiting  the  studios  of  the  German 
charlatans  and  the  imbecile  English  pre-Raphaelites,  and 
bring  their  tour  to  an  end  by  doing  me  the  honor  of  a  visit." 

He  knew  very  well  the  fashion  in  which  dilettante  visited 
the  studios  of  modern  painters,  and  they  amused  him  rather 
than  vexed  him.  He  saw  that  their  single  aim  was  to  be 
able  to  prove  the  incontestible  superiority  of  ancient  over 
modern  art.  He  expected  all  this,  and  he  read  it  in  the 
indifference  with  which  his  visitors  conversed  together  as 
they  walked  up  and  down  the  studio,  leisurely  examining 
the  manikins  and  busts,  while  he  was  arranging  his  paint- 
ings. 

Notwithstanding  his  prejudice  and  his  private  conviction 
that  rich  and  titled  Russians  were  infallibly  fools  and  imbe- 
ciles, he  got  out  his  studies,  raised  his  curtains,  and  with 
eager  hand  unveiled  his  masterpiece. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  stepping  back  from  the  easel  and  beck- 
oning to  the  sightseers,  "  is  the  Christ  before  Pilate." 
(Matthew,  chapter  xxvii.)  He  felt  his  lips  tremble  with 
emotion,  and  he  took  his  place  behind  his  guests.  During 


478  ANNA   KARENINA. 

the  few  seconds  of  silence  that  followed,  Mikhai'lof  looked 
at  his  picture  with  a  sort  of  indifference,  us  though  he  were 
one  of  the  spectators.  In  spite  of  him  he  expected  a  su- 
perior criticism,  an  infallible  judgment,  from  these  three 
people,  whom  but  a  moment  before  he  despised.  Forgetting 
his  own  opinion  as  well  as  the  indubitable  merits  which  dur- 
ing three  years  had  constantly  appealed  to  him,  he  looked  at 
it  now  with  the  cold  and  critical  look  of  a  stranger,  and 
found  it  full  of  faults.  How  far  would  the  politeh'  hypocrit- 
ical remarks  which  he  expected  to  hear  be  justified?  how 
much  right  his  guests  would  have  to  pity  him  and  ridicule 
him  after  they  were  gone  ! 

The  silence,  which  in  reality  did  not  last  a  minute,  seemed 
to  him  intolerably  long,  and  to  abridge  it  and  hide  his 
trouble,  he  made  an  effort  to  address  Golennishchef. 

"  I  think  that  I  have  had  the  honor  of  meeting  you  be- 
fore," said  he,  glancing  anxiously  first  at  Anna,  then  at 
Vronsky,  so  that  he  might  not  lose  for  an  instant  the  chang- 
ing expression  of  their  faces. 

"  Certainly ;  we  met  at  Rossi's  the  evening  when  that 
Italian  girl,  the  new  Rachel,  made  a  recitation  ;  don't  you 
remember?"  replied  Golennishchef,  turning  away  his  face 
without  the  least  show  of  regret. 

He  saw,  however,  that  Mikhai'lof  was  expecting  him  to 
say  something  about  the  picture,  and  he  added,  — 

"Your  work  has  made  great  progress  since  the  last  time 
I  saw  it ;  and  now  I  am  greatly  impressed  with  your  Pilate, 
just  as  I  was  then.  You  have  represented  a  good  but  feeble 
man, — a  tchinovnik  to  the  bottom  of  his  soul,  —  who  is  ab- 
solutely blind  to  the  meaning  of  his  action.  But  it  seems 
to  me  "  — 

Mikhai'lof's  mobile  face  lighted  up,  his  eyes  gleamed,  he 
wanted  to  reply ;  but  his  emotion  prevented  him,  and  he 
pretended  to  have  a  fit  of  coughing.  This  discriminating 
observation,  though  it  was  valueless  to  him,  because  he  had 
such  a  low  estimation  of  Golennishchef 's  artistic  instinct, 
filled  him  with  joy.  He  suddenly  conceived  a  liking  for  his 
guest,  and  suddenly  flew  from  dejection  to  enthusiasm. 
Instantly  his  painting  regained  in  his  eyes  its  meaning  so 
complex  and  so  profound. 

Vronsky  and  Anna  were  talking  in  that  low  tone  of  voice 
peculiar  to  picture  exhibitions,  and  caused  by  the  desire  not 
to  say  anything  that  might  give  offence,  and,  more  than  all, 


ANNA  KAREXIXA.  479 

not  to  let  any  one  hear  those  absurd  remarks  which  are  so 
easily  made  in  regard  to  art.  Mikhtd'lof  thought  that  he 
heard  a  favorable  criticism  on  his  picture ;  and  he  drew 
closer  to  them. 

"  What  an  admirable  expression  the  Christ  has,"  said 
Anna,  thinking  that  this  eulogy  could  not  help  being  agree- 
able to  the  artist,  as  the  Christ  was  the  principal  figure  in  the 
painting.  She  added,  ''One  can  see  that  he  pities  Pilate." 
This,  again,  was  one  of  those  million  accurate  but  idle  obser- 
vations which  mean  so  little.  The  Christ's  face,  of  course, 
should  represent  resignation  to  death,  the  feeling  of  absolute 
disenchantment  with  the  world,  a  supernatural  peace,  a  sub- 
lime love,  and,  in  consequence,  also  pity  for  his  enemies. 
Pilate,  the  tchinovnik ,  should  represent  the  fleshly  life  in 
contradistinction  to  Christ,  the  pattern  of  the  spiritual  life, 
and  therefore  have  the  aspect  of  a  vulgar  office-holder ;  but, 
nevertheless,  Mikhai'lof  s  face  was  radiant  with  joy. 

^  Da!  And  how  that  figure  is  painted!  One  could  go 
round  it,"  said  Golennishchef,  meaning  to  show  by  this 
observation  that  he  did  not  approve  of  the  realistic  element 
in  the  Christ. 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  a  master- work,"  said  Yronsky.  "  How  alive 
those  figures  in  the  background  are  !  What  technique  !  "  he 
added,  turning  to  Golennishchef,  and  alluding  to  a  discussion 
in  which  he  had  avowed  his  discouragement  in  the  technique 
of  the  art. 

"Yes,  yes;  very  remarkable,"  said  Golennishchef  and 
Anna  simultaneously.  But  Yronsky's  last  remark  nettled 
Mikhai'lof ;  he  scowled  and  looked  at  Vronsky  with  an  angry 
expression.  He  did  not  know  what  he  meant  by  the  word 
technique.  He  had  often  noticed,  even  in  the  praises  which 
his  work  called  forth,  that  technical  skill  was  opposed  to  the 
intrinsic  merit  of  a  work  as  though  it  were  possible  to  paint 
a  bad  picture  with  talent. 

"The  only  criticism  that  I  should  dare 'to  make,  if  you 
will  allow  me  "  — 

"Ach!  I  should  be  very  glad,  —  beg  you  to  favor  me," 
replied  Mikhai'lof,  smiling  without  gayety. 

"It  is  that  you  have  painted  a  man  made  God,  and  not 
God  made  man.  However,  I  know  that  that  was  your 
intention." 

"  I  cannot  paint  any  Christ  except  the  one  I  comprehend," 
replied  Mikhai'lof  gloomily. 


480  ANNA  KARfiNlNA. 

"  In  that  case,  excuse  me  if  I  look  at  it  from  my  own 
standpoint ;  your  painting  is  so  beautiful,  that  this  observa- 
tion can  do  it  no  harm.  Take  Ivanof ,  for  example  — 
why  does  he  reduce  the  Christ  to  the  proportions  of  an 
historical  figure  ?  He  would  do  better  to  choose  a  new 
theme  less  hackneyed." 

"  But  suppose  this  theme  is  the  grandest  of  all  for  art?" 

"  By  searching,  one  might  be  found  just  as  grand.  Art, 
in  my  estimation,  cannot  suffer  discussion  ;  now  this  ques- 
tion is  raised  by  Ivanof's  painting  :  Is  that  God,  or  not  God? 
and  thus  the  unity  of  the  impression  is  destroyed." 

"Why  so?  It  seems  to  me  that  this  question  can  no 
longer  be  asked  by  enlightened  men,"  replied  Mikliai'lof. 

Golennishchef  was  not  of  this  opinion  ;  and,  full  of  his 
idea,  drew  the  painter  into  a  discussion  in  which  he  could 
not  defend  himself. 

XII. 

ANNA  and  Vronsky,  wearying  of  their  friend's  learned 
loquacity,  exchanged  glances.  Finally  they  left  the  two 
men  to  their  discussion,  and  went  to  make  a  further  ex- 
amination of  the  studio.  They  stopped  before  a  small 
painting. 

"Ach!  How  charming!  What  a  gem!"  said  both  of 
them  at  once. 

"What  pleases  them  so?"  thought  Mikhailof.  He  had 
completely  forgotten  this  picture,  painted  three  years  before. 
When  once  he  had  painted  a  picture,  he  no  longer  cared  to 
see  it,  and  he  had  brought  this  one  out  only  because  an 
Englishman  had  thought  of  purchasing  it. 

"  That  is  nothing,"  he  said  —  "  only  an  old  study." 

"But  it  is  capital,"  replied  Golennishchef  very  honestly, 
falling  under  the  charm  of  the  painting. 

Two  children  "were  fishing  under  the  shade  of  a  labur- 
num. The  elder,  all  absorbed,  was  cautiously  pulling  his 
line  from  the  water.  The  younger,  lying  in  the  grass,  leaning 
his  blond,  frowsly  head  on  his  hand,  was  gazing  at  the  water, 
with  great,  pensive  eyes.  What  was  he  thinking  about? 

The  enthusiasm  caused  by  this  study  brought  back  some- 
what of  Mikhai'lof's  first  emotion ;  but  he  did  not  love  the 
vain  memories  of  the  past,  and  he  preferred  to  take  his 
guests  to  a  third  painting.  But  Vronsky  angered  him 


ANNA    KARENINA.  481 

by  asking  if  the  painting  was  for  sale ;  the  question  of 
money  seemed  to  him  to  be  in  bad  taste,  and  he  frowned  as 
he  replied,  — 

"  It  was  put  up  for  sale." 

After  his  visitors  had  gone,  Mikhailof  sat  down  before  his 
painting  of  Christ  and  Pilate,  and  mentally  reviewed  all  that 
had  been  said  and  understood  by  them.  And  how  strange  ! 
the  observations  which  seemed  so  weighty  when  they  were 
present,  and  when  he  put  himself  on  their  plane,  now  lost  all 
significance.  As  he  examined  his  work  with  his  artist's  eye 
he  regained  his  full  conviction  of  its  perfection  and  its  lofty 
value,  and  he  therefore  again  felt  the  disposition  of  mind 
necessary  for  the  continuance  of  his  work. 

The  foreshortening  in  the  log  of  the  Christ  was  not  quite 
correct.  He  seized  his  palette,  and  while  he  was  correcting 
it,  looked  long  at  the  head  of  John,  which  seemed  to  him  to 
show  the  highest  degree  of  perfection  —  and  his  visitors  had 
not  even  noticed  it.  He  tried  to  give  this  also  a  few  touches  ; 
but  to  work  well  he  must  be  less  excited  and  reach  the  right 
medium  between  indifference  and  exultation.  At  this 
moment  he  was  agitated.  He  started  to  cover  the  canvas. 
Then  he  stopped,  and,  lifting  the  drapery  with  one  hand,  he 
smiled  ecstatically  at  his  St.  John.  At  last,  tearing  himself 
from  his  contemplation,  he  let  the  curtain  fall,  and  went 
home,  weary  but  happy. 

Vronsky,  Anna,  and  Golennishchef,  returning  to  the 
pnlazzo,  were  very  lively  and  gay.  They  talked  about  Mik- 
hailof and  his  paintings.  The  word  talent  was  often  heard 
as  the}*  talked  ;  they  meant  by  it  not  onby  an  inner  gift, 
almost  physical,  independent  of  spirit  and  heart,  but  also 
something  more  extended,  the  real  meaning  of  which  escaped 
them. 

"  Talent,"  they  said,  "he  certainly  has,  but  this  talent  is 
not  sufficiently  developed,  because  he  lacks  intellectual  cul- 
ture, a  fault  common  to  all  Russian  artists." 

But  the  painting  of  the  two  boys  appealed  to  their  tastes, 
and  again  and  again  they  recurred  to  it.  "  How  charming ! 
How  natural  and  how  simple  !  And  he  did  not  realize  how 
good  it  was.  Da !  I  must  not  fail  to  buy  it,"  said  Vronsky. 


482  ANNA    KAR&NINA. 


XIII. 

MIKHAILOF  sold  Vronsky  the  little  picture,  and  also  de- 
cided to  paiiit  Anna's  portrait.  He  came  on  the  appointed 
da}'  and  began  his  work,  which  even  on  the  fifth  sitting 
struck  Vronsky  by  its  resemblance  and  by  its  very  delicate 
feeling  for  the  beauty  of  his  subject. 

'•One  must  know  her  and  love  her  as  I  love  her,  to 
get  her  gentle  and  spiritual  expression,"  thought  Vronsky  ; 
and  yet  he  found  in  Mikhailof s  portrait  exactly  that  very 
expression. 

"I  have  been  struggling  so  long  and  never  get  ahead," 
said  Vronsky,  referring  to  his  portrait  of  Anna,  "  and  he  has 
only  to  look  at  her  to  paint  her.  That  is  what  I  call  know- 
ing one's  profession." 

''That  will  come,"  said  Golenuishchef,  to  console  him,  for 
in  his  eyes  Vronsky  had  talent,  and,  moreover,  had  a  train- 
ing which  ought  to  wake  in  him  the  feeling  for  art.  But 
Golennishchef's  convictions  in  this  regard  were  corroborated 
by  the  need  that  he  felt  for  Vrousky  to  praise  him  and  sym- 
pathize with  him  in  his  own  work :  it  was  a  fair  exchange. 

In  the  house  of  strangers,  and  especially  in  Vronsky's 
palazzo,  Mikhailof  was  an  entirely  different  man  from  what 
he  was  at  home  and  in  his  studio.  He  showed  himself 
respectful  almost  to  affectation,  as  though  he  were  anxious 
to  avoid  all  intimac}*  with  people  whom  at  heart  he  did  not 
regard.  He  always  called  Vronsky  "Your  Excellency  "  [vdshe 
sidtelstvo~\  ;  and  in  spite  of  Vronsky's  and  Anna's  repeated 
invitations,  he  never  would  stay  to  dinner  or  come  except  at 
the  hours  for  the  sitting.  Anna  was  even  more  genial  to 
him  than  to  the  others  ;  Vronsky  was  more  than  polite  to 
him,  and  was  anxious  for  his  criticism  on  his  paintings ; 
Goleunishchef  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  inculcating  sound 
theories  of  art :  still  Mikhailof  kept  his  distance.  But  Anna 
felt  that  he  liked  to  look  at  her  even  though  he  avoided  all 
conversation  with  her.  When  Vronsky  desired  his  opinion 
on  his  work,  he  remained  obstinatelv  silent,  and  looked  at  the 
pictures  without  ever  a  word,  and  he  took  no  pains  to  conceal 
the  weariness  which  Golennishchef's  sermons  caused  him. 

This  mute  hostility  produced  a  painful  impression,  and 
relief  was  felt  by  all  when  the  sittings  were  over,  and  Mikhai- 
lof, having  completed  an  admirable  portrait,  ceased  to  come 


ANNA    K ARE  NINA.  483 

to  the  palazzo.  Goleunishchef  was  the  first  to  express  a 
thought  which  all  had  been  thinking,  that  the  painter  was 
envious  of  Vronsky. 

"What  makes  him  furious  is  to  see  a  wealthy  man,  of 
high  position,  a  count, — and  apparently  they  are  all  vexed  at 
that,  —  reaching  without  trouble  the  skill  to  paint  as  well, 
if  not  better,  than  he.  'He  has  devoted  his  liie  to  painting, 
but  you  have  a  mental  culture  which  people  like  Mikhai'lof 
never  succeed  in  attaining." 

Vronsky,  though  he  took  the  painter's  part,  felt  at  heart 
that  his  friend  was  right ;  for  it  seemed  to  him  extremely  nat- 
ural that  a  man  in  an  inferior  position  should  env}'  him. 

The  two  portraits  of  Anna  might  have  shown  him  the  dif- 
ference between  him  and  Mikhai'lof.  It  was  only  after 
Mikhai'lof's  portrait  was  done,  that  he  began  to  see  it.  He 
felt  it  sufficiently  to  lay  his  own  aside,  saying  that  it  was  a 
superfluity  ;  and  he  devoted  himself  wholly  to  his  mediseval 
painting.  He  himself  and  Golennishchef  and  Anna  espe- 
cially felt  that  it  was  good,  because  it  resembled,  more  than 
all  that  Mikhai'lof  did,  the  works  of  the  old  masters. 

Mikhai'lof,  meantime,  in  spite  of  the  pleasure  which  he 
took  in  doing  Anna's  portrait,  was  glad  to  be  freed  from 
Goleunishchef's  discourses  and  Vronsky's  paintings.  Of 
course,  it  was  impossible  to  prevent  Vronsky  from  amusing 
himself,  he  and  all  other  dilettante  having  unfortunately  the 
right  to  paint  as  much  as  they  please  ;  but  he  suffered  in  con- 
sequence of  this  amateurish  occupation.  No  one  can  prevent 
a  man  from  making  for  himself  a  big  wax  doll  and  kissing  it ; 
but  if  this  man  takes  his  doll  and  sits  in  the  presence  of 
lovers  and  makes  his  caresses  before  them,  then  it  becomes 
unpleasant  to  the  lover.  Vronsky's  painting  produced  on 
him  a  similar  feeling  ;  it  was  ridiculous,  and  disgusting,  and 
pitiable,  and  vexatious. 

Vronsky's  enthusiasm  for  painting  and  the  middle  ages 
was,  however,  of  short  duration  ;  his  art  instinct  was  strong 
enough  to  prevent  him  from  finishing  his  painting,  and  he 
recognized  sadly,  that  his  faults,  at  first  apparently  trifling, 
grew  more  and  more  grievous  as  he  went  on.  He  was  like 
Golennishchef,  who  willingly  nurtured  himself  on  illusions, 
and  imagined  that  he  was  collecting  materials,  and  storing 
up  ripened  thoughts,  because  he  felt  that  there  was  a  void  in 
his  mind.  But  while  Golennishchef  grew  bitter  and  irritable, 
Vronsky  remained  perfectly  calm :  incapable  of  self-decep- 


484  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

tion,  he  simply  gave  up  his  painting,  with  his  habitual  deci- 
sion of  character,  without  seeking  to  justify  himself  or  to 
offer  explanations. 

But,  without  this  occupation,  life  in  this  little  Italian  city 
quickly  became  intolerable  ;  the  palazzo  suddenly  appeared 
old  and  dirty  ;  the  spots  on  the  curtains  assumed  a  sordid 
aspect ;  the  cracks  in  the  mosaics,  the  bi'oken  stucco  of 
the  cornices,  the  eternal  Golennishchef ,  the  Italian  professor, 
and  the  German  tourist,  all  became  unspeakably  wearisome. 
Anna  was  surprised  by  this  abrupt  disenchantment,  but 
willingly  consented  to  return  to  Russia  to  live  in  the  country. 
Vronsky  wanted  to  pass  through  Petersburg  to  make  business 
arrangements  with  his  brother,  and  Anna  was  anxious  to  see 
her  son.  They  decided  to  spend  the  summer  on  Vronsky's 
large  patrimonial  estate. 

XIV. 

LEVIN  had  been  married  three  months.  He  was  happy, 
but  in  a  different  way  from  what  he  had  anticipated  ;  and, 
notwithstanding  certain  unlooked-for  delights,  he  was  met  at 
every  step  with  some  new  disenchantment.  Married  life 
was  utterly  different  from  his  dreams.  He  seemed  like  a 
man  who  has  been  charmed  with  the  graceful  and  joyful 
motion  of  a  boat  on  the  sea,  and  afterwards  finds  himself  in 
the  boat.  He  felt  the  difference  between  simple  contempla- 
tion and  action.  It  was  not  enough  to  sit  still  and  not 
rock ;  it  was  necessary  to  be  on  the  lookout,  never  for  a 
moment  forgetful  of  the  course,  to  think  of  the  water  under 
his  feet,  to  direct  the  sailors,  and  not  alone  to  look  on,  but 
to  work,  and  with  unskilful  hands  move  the  heavy  oars. 

In  other  days,  when  still  a  bachelor,  he  often  laughed  in  his 
sleeve  at  the  little  miseries  of  conjugal  life,  —  quarrels,  jeal- 
ousies, vexatious  details :  never  should  any  such  thing 
happen  in  his  future  married  life,  never  should  his  private 
life  resemble  that  of  others.  But  now,  lo  and  behold  !  all 
these  same  petty  tribulations  reappeared,  and,  in  spite  of 
him,  assumed  an  extraordinary  and  irrefutable  importance. 

Like  all  men,  Levin  had  expected  to  find  in  marriage  the 
satisfaction  of  his  love,  without  the  admixture  of  any  prosaic 
details  ;  love  was  to  give  him  rest  after  labor ;  his  wife  was 
to  be  his  love,  and  that  was  all.  Like  all  men,  he  absolutely 
forgot  that  she  too  had  to  work.  His  surprise  was  great  to 


ANNA    KARtiNINA.  485 

find  this  charming  and  poetic  Kitty,  even  in  the  first  days  of 
their  married  lile,  thinking,  planning,  taking  charge  of  the 
linen,  the  furniture,  the  mattresses,  the  table  service,  the 
kitchen.  The  decided  way  in  which  she  refused  to  travel, 
so  that  they  might  come  immediately  to  their  country  home, 
and  her  willingness  to  let  it  be  known  that  she  knew  some- 
thing about  domestic  economy,  and  could  think  of  such 
things  in  spite  of  her  love,  had  struck  him  even  during  their 
engagement.  It  vexed  him  then,  and  now  he  felt  still  more 
vexed  to  find  that  she  cared  for  these  wearisome  minutiae 
and  the  material  sides  of  life.  But  he  saw  that  it  was 
unavoidable  ;  he  bantered  her  on  the  subject. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  her  occupations,  he  loved  her,  and  was 
amused  to  see  her  presiding  over  the  arrangement  of  the 
new  furniture  which  came  from  Moscow,  hanging  curtains, 
providing  for  the  guest-rooms  and  the  rooms  that  Dolly 
would  have,  directing  the  new  chamber-maid  and  the  old 
cook,  discussing  with  Agaf}-a  Mikhai'lovna,  whom  she  re- 
moved from  the  charge  of  the  provisions.  The  old  cook 
smiled  gently  as  he  received  fantastic  orders,  impossible  to 
execute  ;  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna  shook  her  head  pensively  at 
the  new  measures  introduced  by  her  young  bandna.  Levin 
looked  on,  and  thought  her  wonderfully  charming  when  she 
came  to  him,  half  laughing,  half  crying,  to  complain  because 
her  maid,  Masha,  insisted  on  treating  her  like  a  child,  and 
no  one  took  her  seriously.  It  all  seemed  to  him  charming, 
but  strange. 

He  could  not  comprehend  the  sense  of  metamorphosis 
which  she  felt  at  finding  herself  the  mistress,  obliged  to 
see  to  the  preparation  of  cauliflower  and  kvas,  or  confec- 
tions, to  spend  and  to  command  as  she  pleased,  after  having 
always  had  her  parents  to  restrain  her  fancies. 

She  was  now  making  joyful  preparations  for  the  arrival 
of  Dolly  and  the  children,  and  was  thinking  of  the  pies 
which  she  would  have  made  for  them.  The  details  of  house- 
keeping had  an  irresistible  attraction  for  her,  and,  as  though 
she  foresaw  evil  days  to  come,  she  instinctively  prepared  her 
little  nest  ngainst  the  approaching  spring. 

This  zeal  for  trifles,  so  entirely  opposed  to  Levin's  lofty 
ideal  of  happiness,  seemed  to  him  one  of  his  lost  illusions, 
while  this  same  activity,  the  meaning  of  which  escaped  him, 
but  which  he  could  not  see  without  pleasure,  seemed  to  him 
a  new  delight. 


486  ANNA    KARtiNINA. 

The  quarrels  were  also  a  surprise.  Never  had  it  entered 
into  Levin's  head  that  between  him  and  his  wile  there  could 
be  any  relations  other  than  those  of  gentleness,  respect,  ten- 
derness ;  and  here,  even  in  their  honeymoon,  they  were  dis- 
puting !  Kitty  declared  that  he  was  selfish,  and  burst  into 
tears  and  wrung  her  hands. 

The  first  of  these  little  differences  arose  in  consequence  of 
a  ride  that  Levin  took  to  see  a  new  farm  ;  he  stayed  half  an 
hour  longer  than  he  had  said,  having  missed  his  way  in  trying 
to  come  home  by  a  shorter  road.  As  he  approached  the 
house,  Kitty  occupied  his  thought  to  the  exclusion  of  every- 
thing else,  and  as  he  galloped  along,  his  heart  was  on  fire  at 
the  idea  of  his  happiness,  of  his  love  for  his  wife.  He  hur- 
ried into  the  drawing-room  in  a  state  of  mind  somewhat  like 
that  which  he  had  experienced  on  the  day  that  he  became 
engaged.  An  angry  expression,  such  as  he  had  never  seen 
in  her  face,  received  him.  He  went  to  kiss  her  ;  she  pushed 
him  away. 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"You've  been  having  a  good  time,"  she  began,  wishing 
to  show  herself  cold  and  bitter. 

But  hardly  had  she  opened  her  mouth  when  the  ridiculous 
jealousy,  which  had  been  tormenting  her  while  she  sat  on  the 
window-seat  during  his  absence,  broke  out  in  a  torrent  of 
angry  words. 

He  then  began  for  the  first  time  to  understand  clearly 
what  before  he  had  seen  only  confusedly,  when  after  the 
crowning  they  went  out  of  the  church.  He  saw  that  she 
was  not  only  near  to  him,  but  that  he  did  not  know  at  all 
where  his  own  personality  began  or  her  personality  ended. 
He  felt  a  painful  sensation  of  internal  division.  Never  had 
such  an  impression  come  to  him  so  clearly.  He  was  vexed 
at  first,  but  in  a  second  he  perceived  he  must  not  vex  her. 
He  wanted  to  exonerate  himself,  and  show  Kitty  how  wrong 
she  was  ;  his  natural  temptation  was  to  cast  the  blame  on 
her,  but  then  he  would  have  irritated  her  still  more  and  in- 
creased their  unhappiness.  To  remain  under  the  shadow  of 
an  injustice  was  cruel,  to  irritate  her  under  the  pretext  of  a 
justification  was  still  more  blameworthy.  Like  a  man  half 
asleep  who  struggles  to  free  himself  from  some  terrible  pain, 
and  on  waking  finds  that  the  pain  is  in  himself,  he  recognized 
that,  patience  was  the  only  remedy. 
.  Reconciliation  quickly  followed.  Kitty,  though  she  did 


487 

not  confess  it,  felt  herself  in  the  wrong,  and  was  more  than 
ever  tender  to  him,  so  that  they  felt  that  their  love  was 
doubled. 

Unhappily,  these  differences  kept  constantly  rising,  often 
from  causes  as  idle  as  they  were  unexpected,  and  because 
they  were  still  ignorant  of  what  was  indispensable  for  each. 
These  first  months  were  trying ;  neither  of  them  was  in  a 
natural  state  of  mind,  and  the  most  childish  things  were  suf- 
ficient to  provoke  misunderstandings,  the  causes  of  which 
they  quickly  forgot.  Each  of  them  pulled  in  contrary  ways 
on  the  chain  that  bound  them,  and  this  honeymoon,  from 
which  Levin  expected  such  wonders,  left  them  in  reality 
only  painful  memories.  Both  of  them  afterwards  tried  to 
blot  from  their  memories  the  thousand  unfortunate,  but  almost 
ludicrous,  incidents  of  this  period,  during  which  they  so 
rarely  found  themselves  in  a  normal  state  of  mind. 

Life  became  better  regulated  only  after  their  return  from 
Moscow,  where  they  made  a  short  visit  in  the  third  mouth 
after  the  wedding. 

XV. 

THEY  were  just  back  from  Moscow,  and  enjoyed  their  soli- 
tude. Levin  was  sitting  at  his  library-table,  writing  ;  Kitty, 
dressed  in  a  dark-violet  dress,  which  she  had  worn  in  the 
first  days  of  their  marriage,  and  which  Levin  had  always 
liked,  was  making  broderie  anglaise  (English  embroidery) 
as  she  sat  on  the  great  leather  divan  which  ever  since  the 
days  of  Levin's  father  and  grandfather  had  stood  in  the 
library. 

Levin  enjoyed  her  presence  while  he  was  writing  and 
thinking.  His  investigations  and  his  labors  and  his  books, 
through  which  he  was  trying  to  evolve  his  new  method  of 
conducting  his  estate,  were  not  given  up  ;  but  just  as  they 
seemed  to  him  small  and  useless  in  those  unhappy  days  when 
his  life  was  overshadowed,  so  now  in  the  full  light  of  joy  he 
found  them  significant. 

In  former  days  this  occupation  seemed  like  the  salvation 
of  his  life  ;  in  former  days  he  felt  that  without  it  life  would 
be  altogether  gloomy  ;  now  these  occupations  were  necessary 
in  order  that  his  life  might  not  be  too  monotonously  bright. 
As  he  read  over  what  he  had  written,  Levin  felt  a  joyous 
realization  that  it  was  valuable  in  spite  of  some  exaggerated 


488  ANXA  KARtiNINA. 

notions,  and  he  began  to  fill  in  mam-  gaps  as  he  got  a  new 
conception  of  the  question.  He  now  wrote  a  new  chapter, 
in  which  he  treated  of  the  unfavorable  conditions  under  Avhich 
Russian  agriculture  suffered.  The  poverty  of  the  country,  in 
his  estimation,  was  not  caused  entirely  by  the  unequal  distri- 
bution of  the  land  property  and  false  economical  tendencies, 
but  rather  to  a  premature  introduction  of  European  civiliza- 
tion :  railroads,  constructed,  not  by  reason  of  actual  neces- 
sity, but  from  political  motives,  produced  an  exaggerated 
centralization  in  the  cities  ;  the  development  of  luxury,  and 
consequently  the  creation  of  new  industries  at  the  expense 
of  agriculture,  an  extraordinary  extension  of  the  credit  sys- 
tem and  its  concomitant,  —  stock  speculation.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  the  normal  increase  in  the  riches  of  the  country 
admitted  these  signs  of  exterior  civilization  only  when  the 
cultivation  of  the  land  had  attained  a  proportional  develop- 
ment. 

While  Levin  was  writing,  Kitty  was  thinking  of  her  hus- 
band's unnatural  behavior  on  the  evening  before  they  left 
Moscow  towards  the  young  Prince  Tcharsky,  who,  with 
remarkable  lack  of  tact,  had  made  love  to  her.  "  He  is 
jealous,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  Bozlie  tnoi!  how  good  and 
stupid  he  is  !  To  be  jealous  of  me  !  If  he  only  knew  what 
an  effect  on  me  they  all  have  !  exactly  the  same  as  Piotr  the 
cook  !"  And  she  glanced  with  a  strange  feeling  of  proprie- 
torship at  the  back  of  her  husband's  head  and  his  strong 
neck. 

"  It  is  a  shame  to  interrupt  him,  but  he  has  plenty  of 
time.  I  must  see  his  face  ;  will  he  feel  how  I  am  looking  at 
him?  I  will  will  for  him  to  turn  round,  Nu  .  .  ."  And 
she  opened  her  eyes  as  wide  as  she  could,  as  if  to  concentrate 
more  strength  into  her  gaze. 

"Da/  they  attract  all  the  best  sap  and  give  a  false  appear- 
ance of  wealth,"  murmured  Levin,  dropping  his  pen  as  he 
felt  his  wife's  eyes  fixed  on  him.  He  turned  around. 

"  AVhat  is  it?  "  he  asked,  smiling. 

"  He  did  turn  round,"  she  thought. 

"  Nothing;  I  only  willed  to  make  you  turn  around,"  and 
she  looked  at  him  as  if  to  fathom  whether  he  was  vexed 
because  he  had  been  disturbed. 

"  Nu!  How  good  it  is  to  be  alone  together  !  For  me,  at 
least,"  said  he,  getting  up,  radiant  with  joy,  and  going  out 
to  where  she  sat. 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  489 

"  I  am  so  happy  here  !  I  never,  never,  waut  to  go  away 
again,  especially  not  to  Moscow." 

"  But  what  were  you  thinking  about?" 

"I?  I  was  thinking  —  no,  no;  go  on  with  your  writing! 
don't  let  your  mind  be  distracted,"  she  replied,  pouting.  "I 
must  cut  all  these  oeilletholes  now;  do  you  see?"  And  she 
took  her  scissors  and  began  to  snip. 

"No  ;  tell  me  what  you  were  thinking  about !  "  he  insisted, 
sitting  down  near  her,  and  following  all  the  movements  of 
her  little  scissors. 

"  Ach!  What  was  I  thinking  about?  About  Moscow  and 
—  the  nape  of  thy  neck  !  " 

"  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  this  great  happiness?  It 
is  supernatural.  It  is  too  good,"  said  he,  kissing  her  hand. 

"  The  happier  I  am,  the  more  natural  I  find  it !  " 

"You  have  a  little  pigtail,"  he  said,  turning  her  head 
around  carefully. 

"A  pigtail?  let  it  be.  We  must  think  about  serious 
things." 

But  the  serious  things  were  interrupted  ;  and,  when  Kuzma 
came  to  announce  tea,  they  separated  as  though  they  were 
guilty. 

"Have  they  come  from  town?"  asked  Levin  of  Kuzma. 

"Just  come, — everything  was  sold  all  right." 

"  Come  as  quickly  as  you  can,"  said  Kitty,  going  from 
the  library. 

Levin,  left  alone,  shut  up  his  books  and  papers  in  a  new 
portfolio,  bought  by  his  wife,  washed  his  hands  in  an  elegant 
new  washbasin,  also  bought  by  her,  and,  smiling  at  his 
thoughts,  raised  his  head  with  a  feeling  that  resembled 
remorse.  His  life  had  become  too  indolent,  too  spoiled.  It 
was  a  life  of  a  Capuan,  and  he  felt  ashamed  of  it.  "To 
live  so  is  not  good,"  he  thought.  "  Here,  for  three  months, 
I  have  not  done  a  thing !  To-day,  for  the  first  time,  I  have 
set  about  anything  seriously,  and  I  have  hardly  begun  before 
I  give  up.  I  even  neglect  my  ordinary  occupations.  I  don't 
watch  the  men.  I  don't  go  anywhere.  Sometimes  I  am 
sorry  to  leave  her  ;  sometimes  I  fear  that  she  will  get  lonely  ; 
I  who  believed  that  existence  before  marriage  counted  for 
nothing,  and  only  began  after  marriage !  And  here,  for 
three  months,  I  have  been  spending  my  time  in  absolute  idle- 
ness. This  must  not  go  on.  It  is  not  her  fault,  and  one 
could  not  lay  the  least  blame  on  her.  But  I  must  show  firm- 


490  ANNA   KARENINA. 

ness,  and  preserve  my  manly  independence ;  otherwise,  I 
sluill  get  into  confirmed  bad  habits  —  of  course,  she  is  not  to 
blame  "  — 

A  discontented  man  finds  it  hard  not  to  blame  some  one 
or  other  for  his  discontent.  And  so  Levin  felt  with  sadness, 
that  if  the  fault  was  not  his  wife's,  —  and  he  could  not  lay  it 
to  her  charge,  —  it  was  owing  to  her  bringing  up.  "This 
durak  [fool]  of  a  Tcharsky,  for  example,  —  I  know  she 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  him  ;  but  she  did  not  know  how." 

Then  he  went  on  again,  — 

"  Da!  Besides,  the  petty  interests  of  housekeeping  —  she 
looks  out  for  those,  and  enjoys  them  ;  besides  her  toilet  and 
her  broderie  angluise,  nothing  seriously  interests  her.  No 
sympathy  in  my  labors,  for  my  schemes,  or  for  the  muzhiks, 
no  taste  for  reading  or  music  ;  and  yet  she  is  a  good  musi- 
cian. She  does  absolutely  nothing,  and  yet  she  is  perfectly 
content." 

Levin,  in  judging  her  thus,  did  not  comprehend  that  his 
wife  was  making  ready  for  a  time  of  activity,  which  would 
oblige  her  to  be  at  once  wife,  mother,  mistress  of  the  house 
(khoza'ika),  nurse,  teacher.  He  did  not  understand  that  she 
knew  this  by  intuition,  and  was  preparing  for  this  task,  and 
could  not  blame  herself  for  these  indolent  moments,  and  the 
enjoyment  of  love,  which  made  her  so  happy,  while  she  was 
slowly  building  her  nest  for  the  future. 

XVI. 

WHEN  Levin  came  upstairs  again,  he  found  his  wife 
sitting  in  front  of  the  new,  silver  samovar,  reading  a  letter 
from  Dolly,  with  whom  she  kept  up  a  brisk  correspondence. 
Agafya  Mikhai'lovna,  with  a  cup  of  tea  before  her,  was 
cosily  ensconced  at  a  small  table  beside  her. 

"You  see,  your  wife  [banrina~]  has  asked  me  to  sit  here," 
said  the  old  women,  looking  affectionately  at  Kitty. 

These  last  words  showed  Levin  that  the  domestic  drama 
which  had  been  going  on  between  Kitty  and  Agafya  Mik- 
hai'lovna was  at  an  end.  Notwithstanding  the  chagrin 
which  the  latter  felt  at  resigning  the  reigns  of  government, 
Kitty  was  victorious,  and  had  just  made  peace  with  her. 

"  Here  I  have  been  looking  over  your  letters,"  said 
Kitty,  handing  her  husbnnd  an  illiterate-looking  envelope. 
"I  think  it  is  from  that  woman  —  you  know  —  of  your 


ANNA   KA&&NINA.  491 

brother's  —  I  have  not  read  it.  This  is  from  Doll}*  —  imag- 
ine it:  she  has  been  to  take  Grisha  and  Tania  to  a  children's 
ball  at  the  Sarmatskys's.  Tania  was  dressed  like  a  little 
marchioness." 

But  Levin  was  not  listening.  He  took  the  letter  of 
Marya  Nikolayevua,  his  brother's  discarded  mistress,  and 
read  it.  This  was  already  the  second  time  that  she  had 
written  him.  In  her  first  letter  she  told  him  that  Nikolai 
had  sent  her  away  without  reason,  and  she  added  with  touch- 
ing simplicity,  that  she  asked  no  assistance  though  she  was 
reduced  to  penury,  but  that  the  thought  of  Nikolai  Dmitritch 
was  killing  her.  What  would  become  of  him  without  her, 
feeble  as  he  was?  She  begged  his  brother  not  to  lose  him 
out  of  his  sight.  Her  second  letter  was  in  a  different  tone. 
"  She  said  that  she  had  found  Nikolai'  in  Moscow,  and  had 
gone  with  him  to  a  provincial  city,  where  he  had  received 
an  appointment.  There  he  quarrelled  with  the  chief  and 
immediately  started  for  Moscow ;  but  having  been  taken 
violently  ill  on  the  way,  he  would  probably  never  leave  his 
bed  again.  "•  He  constantly  calls  for  you,  and  besides,  we 
have  no  money,"  she  wrote. 

"  Read  what  Dolly  writes  about  thee,"  Kitty  began;  but 
when  she  saw  her  husband's  dejected  face,  she  stopped 
speaking.  Then  she  said, — 

"  What  is  it  —  what  has  happened?" 

"  She  writes  me  that  Nikolai,  my  brother,  is  dying.  I 
must  go  to  him." 

Kitty's  face  suddenly  changed.  Dolly,  Tania,  and  all 
were  forgotten. 

'  When  shall  3-011  go?" 

To-morrow." 

'  Can  I  go  with  thee?  "  she  asked. 
'  Kitty  !  what  an  idea  !  "  he  replied  reproachfully. 
'Why  what  an  idea?"  she  exclaimed,  vexed  to  see  her 
proposal  received  with  such  bad  grace.     "  Why,  pray,  should 
I  not  go  with  you?     I  should  not  hinder  you  in  any  way." 

"  I  am  going  because  my  brother  is  dying,"  said  Levin. 
"  What  can  you  do?" — 

"  Whatever  yon  do." 

"  At  a  time  so  solemn  for  me,  she  thinks  only  of  the  dis- 
comfort of  being  left  alone,"  said  Levin  to  himself,  and  this 
reflexion  troubled  him. 

"It  is  impossible,"  he  replied  sternly.     Agafya  Mikhai- 


492  AXNA   KARENINA. 

lovna,  seeing  that  a  quarrel  was  imminent,  put  down  her 
cup  and  went  out.  Kitty  did  not  even  notice  it.  Her 
husband's  tone  wounded  her  all  the  more  deeply  because  he 
evidently  did  not  believe  what  she  said. 

k>  I  tell  you,  if  you  go,  I  am  going  too.  I  shall  certainly 
go  with  you,"  said  she  with  angry  determination.  "I 
should  like  to  know  why  it  would  be  impossible.  Why  did 
you  say  that?  " 

"  Because  God  knows  when  or  in  what  place  I  shall  find 
him,  or  by  what  means  I  shall  reach  him.  You  would  only 
hinder  me,"  said  he,  doing  his  best  to  retain  his  self-control. 

"Not  at  all.  I  don't  need  anything.  Where  you  can 
go,  I  can  go,  too,  and"  — 

"  Nu!  If  it  were  only  because  of  this  woman,  with  whom 
you  cannot  come  in  contact." — 

"  Why  not?  I  know  nothing  about  all  that,  and  don't 
want  to  know.  I  know  that  my  husband's  brother  is  dying ; 
that  my  husband  is  going  to  see  him  ;  and  I  am  going  too, 
because  "  — 

"Kitty!  don't  be  angry!  and  remember  that  in  such  a 
serious  time  it  is  painful  for  me  to  have  you  add  to  my  grief 
by  showing  such  weakness,  —  the  fear  of  being  alone.  Nu! 
If  you  are  lonely,  go  to  Moscow"  — 

"  You  always  ascribe  to  me  that  I  have  such  miserable 
sentiments,"  she  cried,  choking  with  tears  of  vexation.  "  I 
am  not  so  weak  ...  I  know  that  it  is  my  duty  to  be  with 
my  husband  when  he  is  in  sorrow,  and  you  want  to  wound 
me  on  purpose.  You  don't  want  to  take  me"  — 

"No  !  this  is  frightful !  to  be  such  a  slave  !  "  cried  Levin, 
rising  from  the  table,  no  longer  able  to  hide  his  anger ;  at 
the  same  instant  he  perceived  that  he  was  doing  himself 
harm. 

"  Why,  then,  did  you  get  married  ?  You  might  have  been 
free.  Why  —  if  you  repent  already?"  —and  Kitty  fled 
from  the  room. 

When  he  went  to  find  her,  she  was  sobbing. 

He  began  to  speak,  striving  to  find  words  not  to  persuade 
her.  but  to  calm  her.  She  would  not  listen,  and  did  not  allow 
one  of  his  arguments.  He  bent  over  her,  took  one  of  her  re- 
calcitrant hands,  kissed  it,  kissed  her  hair,  and  then  her 
hands  again  ;  but  still  she  refused  to  speak.  But  when,  at 
length,  he  took  her  head  between  his  two  hands  and  called 
her  "  Kitty,"  she  softly  wept,  and  the  reconciliation  was 
complete. 


AXXA    KAlttiXINA.  493 

It  was  decided  that  they  should  go  together  on  the  next 
day.  Levin  declared  that  he  was  satisfied  that  she  wished 
nothing  but  to  be  useful,  and  that  there  was  nothing  unpleas- 
ant in  Marys  Nikolayevua's  presence  with  his  brother  ;  but  at 
the  bottom  of  his  heart  he  was  angry,  and  he  was  angry  with 
his  wife.  Strange !  he  who  had  not  been  able  to  believe  in 
the  possibility  of  such  a  joy  as  her  loving  him,  now  felt 
almost  unhappy  because  she  loved  him  too  well.  Disgusted 
at  his  own  weakness,  he  felt  shocked  to  think  of  the  inevita- 
ble acquaintance  between  his  wife  and  his  brother's  mistress. 
The  thought  of  seeing  them  together  in  the  same  room  filled 
him  with  horror  and  repulsion. 

XVII. 

THE  provincial  inn  where  Nikolai  Levin  was  dying  was 
one  of  those  establishments  of  recent  construction  pretending 
to  offer  neatness,  comfort,  and  even  elegance,  to  a  public 
little  accustomed  to  these  modern  refinements.  But  the  same 
public  had  caused  it  to  degenerate  into  an  ill-kept  grog-shop. 
Everything  about  it  produced  an  unpleasant  ett'ect  on  Levin's 
mind,  —  the  soldier  in  dirty  uniform,  who  served  as  Swiss, 
and  was  smoking  a  cigarette  in  the  vestibule ;  melancholy, 
dark,  cast-iron  staircase;  the  lazy  waiter  in  black  coat  cov- 
ered with  grease-spots ;  the  common  diuing-table  decorated 
with  a  frightful  bouquet  of  wax  flowers  gray  with  dust ;  the 
general  condition  of  disorder  and  discomfort;  even  the  abun- 
dant liveliness,  which  seemed  to  him  entirely  in  keeping  with 
the  spirit  introduced  by  the  new  railroad.  The  whole  estab- 
lishment was  in  absolute  contrast  to  their  recent  happiness, 
and  it  gave  them  the  most  painful  impression  when  they 
thought  of  what  was  waiting  for  them. 

They  found  that  the  best  rooms  were  taken,  —  one  b}-  the 
supervisor  of  the  railroad,  another  by  a  Muscovite  lawyer, 
the  third  by  Princess  Astavyeva  from  the  country.  One  dis- 
orderly bed-room  was  left  for  them,  with  the  promise  of  an- 
other when  evening  came.  Levin  took  his  wife  to  it,  vexed 
to  find  his  prognostications  so  speedily  realized,  and  impatient 
because  lie  was  obliged  to  get  settled  instead  of  hurrying  to 
his  brother. 

"Go,  go!"  said  Kitty,  with  a  melancholy  look  of  con- 
trition. 

He  left  her  without  saying  a  word,  and  just  outside  the 


494  ANNA   KARENINA. 

door  he  ran  against  Mary  a  Nikolayevna,  who  had  just  heard 
of  liis  arrival.  She  had  not  changed  since  he  last  saw  her  in 
Moscow.  She  wore  the  same  woolen  dress,  without  collar  or 
cuffs,  and  her  pock-marked  face  expressed  the  same  unfailing 
good  nature. 

"  Nu!   How  is  he?" 

"  Very  bad.  He  doesn't  sit  up,  and  he  is  all  the  time 
asking  for  you.  You  —  she  —  Is  your  wife  with  you?" 

Levin  at  first  did  not  see  why  she  seemed  confused ;  but 
she  immediately  explained  herself. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  kitchen  ;  he  will  be  glad  ;  he  remem- 
bers seeing  her  abroad." 

Levin  perceived  that  she  meant  his  wife,  and  did  not 
know  what  to  say.  "Come,"  said  he,  "come." 

But  they  had  not  gone  a  step,  before  the  chamber  door 
opened  and  Kitty  appeared.  Levin  grew  red  with  vexation 
to  see  his  wife  in  such  a  predicament ;  but  Marya  Nikolayevna 
was  still  more  confused,  and  crouching  back  against  the  wall 
ready  to  cry,  she  caught  the  ends  of  her  apron  and  wound  it 
around  her  red  hands,  not  knowing  what  to  say  or  to  do. 

Levin  saw  the  expression  of  lively  curiosity  in  the  look 
with  which  Kitty  regarded  this  creature,  so  incomprehensible 
and  almost  terrible  to  her  ;  it  lasted  but  a  moment. 

"  Nu!  what  is  it?  how  is  he?"  she  asked,  turning  to  her 
husband,  and  then  to  the  woman. 

"Z)a/  we  cannot  stay  to  talk  in  the  corridor,"  replied 
Levin,  looking  angrily  at  his  wife,  who  with  quick  steps 
had  now  come  out  into  the  hall-way. 

"  Nu!  come  into  the  room  then,"  said  Kitty,  addressing 
Marya  Nikolayevna,  who  was  beginning  to  beat  a  retreat ; 
then  seeing  her  husband's  horror-stricken  face,  she  added,  as 
she  turned  back  to  the  room,  "  Or  rather  go  —  go,  and  send 
after  me." 

Levin  hastened  to  his  brother. 

He  expected  to  find  him  in  that  state  of  illusion  so  common 
to  consumptives,  and  which  had  so  struck  him  during  his 
visit.  He  expected  to  see  him  looking  still  more  emaciated 
and  feeble  than  before,  with  the  indications  of  approaching 
death.  He  expected  that  he  should  be  moved  with  pity  for 
this  well-beloved  brother,  and  should  feel  again,  even 
stronger  than  before,  the  terrors  which  the  thought  of  his 
death  had  caused  for  him.  He  was  quite  prepared  for  all 
this.  But  what  he  saw  was  absolutely  different. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  495 

In  a  little,  close,  clingy,  ill-smelling  room,  the  walls  of 
which  were  marked  by  the  bad  usage  of  many  travellers, 
separated  by  a  thin  partition  from  another  room,  where  con- 
versation was  going  on,  he  saw  lying  on  a  wretched  bed  a 
body  lightly  covered  with  a  counterpane.  Stretched  out 
upon  it  was  a  hand  huge  as  a  rake,  and  holding  in  a  strange 
way  by  the  end  a  sort  of  long  and  slender  bobbin.  The 
head,  resting  on  the  pillow,  showed  the  thin  hair  glued  to  his 
temples,  and  an  almost  transparent  brow. 

"  Can  it  be  that  this  horrible  body  is  my  brother  Nikolai'?" 
thought  Levin;  but  as  he  came  near,  the  doubt  ceased.  It 
was  enough  to  glance  at  the  lively  eyes  turned  towards  him 
as  he  entered,  or  the  motions  of  his  mouth  under  the  long 
moustache,  to  recognize  the  frightful  truth  that  this  corpse 
indeed  was  his  brother. 

Nikolai  looked  at  his  brother  with  a  stern  and  angry  face. 
His  look  seemed  to  bring  living  relations  between  living 
beings.  Koustantin  felt  in  it  a  reproach  for  his  own  health, 
and  a  regret. 

He  took  his  brother's  hand.  Nikolai  smiled  ;  but  the  smile 
was  so  slight  and  feeble  that  it  did  not  change  the  expression 
of  his  eyes. 

"  You  did  not  expect  to  find  me  so,"  he  succeeded  in 
saying. 

"Yes  —  no,"  replied  Levin,  with  confusion.  "Why 
didn't  you  let  me  know  sooner,  before  my  marriage?  I  had 
a  regular  search  to  find  you." 

He  wanted  to  keep  on  speaking,  so  as  to  avoid  a  painful 
silence  ;  but  he  did  not  know  what  to  say,  the  more  as  his 
brother  looked  at  him  without  replying,  and  seemed  to  be 
weighing  each  one  of  his  words.  Finally  he  told  him  that 
his  wife  had  come  with  him,  and  Nikolai  appeared  delighted, 
adding,  however,  that  he  was  afraid  he  should  frighten  her. 
A  silence  followed  ;  suddenly  Nikolai  began  to  speak,  and 
Levin  felt  by  the  expression  of  his  face  that  he  had  some- 
thing of  importance  to  tell  him,  but  he  spoke  only  of  his 
health.  He  blamed  his  doctor,  and  regretted  that  he  could 
not  have  consulted  a  celebrity  in  Moscow.  Levin  perceived 
that  he  still  was  hopeful. 

After  a  moment  Levin  got  up.  with  the  pretext  that  he  was 
going  to  get  his  wife,  but  in  reality  to  tear  himself  away,  for 
a  little  while  at  least,  from  these  cruel  impressions. 

"Nu!  good!    I  will  have  things  put  in  order  here.     It  is 


496  ANNA   KARBNINA. 

dirty  here  and  smells  bad ;  I  guess  Masha  attended  to  things," 
said  the  sick  man,  with  effort.  •'•Da!  and  when  you  have  put 
things  to  rights,  go  away,"  he  added,  looking  at  his  brother 
questioningly. 

Levin  went  out  without  replying ;  but  he  had  scarcely 
reached  the  corridor,  when  he  began  to  repent  of  having 
promised  to  bring  his  wife  ;  thinking  of  what  he  himself  had 
suffered,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  persuade  her  that  this  visit 
was  unnecessary.  "  Why  torment  her  as  I  am  tormented?" 
he  asked  himself. 

"  Nu,  how  is  it?  "  asked  Kitty,  with  frightened  face. 

"  Ach  !  it  is  horrible,  horrible  !  Why  did  you  come  ?  "  Kitty 
looked  at  her  husband  for  an  instant  without  speaking  ;  then 
going  to  him  she  put  both  hands  on  his  arm.  She  said  tim- 
idly, "  Kostia,  take  me  to  him  ;  it  will  be  easier  for  both  of 
us.  Take  me  and  leave  me  with  him  ;  can't  you  see  that  it 
is  more  cruel  to  me  than  anything  else  to  witness  your  grief 
and  not  see  the  cause  of  it?  Perhaps  I  shall  be  useful  to  him, 
and  to  you  also.  I  beg  of  you.  let  me  go."  She  besought 
him  as  though  it  were  for  the  happiness  of  her  life,  and  Levin 
was  obliged  to  let  her  go  with  him. 

In  his  haste  he  completely  forgot  all  about  Marya  Nikolay- 
evna. 

Kitty,  walking  lightly  and  showing  her  husband  a  coura- 
geous and  affectionate  face,  stepped  quietly  into  the  room 
and  shut  the  door  noiselessly.  She  went  with  light,  quick 
steps  up  to  the  bed,  and  sat  down  so  as  not  to  make  the  sick 
man  turn  his  head,  and  with  her  fresh,  soft  hand  she  took  the 
dying  man's  enormous  band,  and  employing  that  tact  peculiar 
to  women,  of  showing  sympathy  without  wounding,  she 
began  to  speak  to  him  with  a  gentle  cheerfulness. 

"We  saw  each  other  at  Soden  without  becoming  ac- 
quainted ;  you  did  not  think  then  that  I  should  ever  become 
your  sister  ?  " 

"You  would  not  have  known  me,  would  you?"  he  said; 
his  face  was  lighted  up  with  a  smile  when  he  saw  her  come  in. 

"O  yes,  indeed.  How  glad  I  am  that  you  sent  for  us! 
Not  a  day  has  passed  without  Kostia  speaking  of  you.  He 
has  been  very  anxious  because  he  did  not  hear  from  you." 

The  sick  man's  animation  lasted  only  a  short  time.  Kitty 
had  not  finished  speaking,  before  that  expression  of  severe 
reproach  towards  one  who  is  in  good  health  came  back  to  his 
face. 


ANNA  KAR&NINA,  497 

"I  am  afraid  that  you  are  not  very  comfortable  here," 
continued  the  young  woman,  avoiding  the  look  which  he 
gave  her,  and  examining  the  room. 

"•  We  must  ask  for  another  room,  and  be  nearer  to  him," 
she  said  to  her  husband. 

XVIII. 

LEVIN  could  not  bear  to  look  at  his  brother,  could  not  even 
leel  at  ease  in  his  presence.  When  he  came  into  the  sick 
man's  room,  his  eyes  and  his  motions  entirely  absorbed  him, 
and  he  did  not  see  and  did  not  realize  his  frightful  situa- 
tion. 

He  was  now  struck  with  the  uncleanliness'and  disorder  of 
the  room,  and  the  bad  air  which  oppressed  them,  and  the  sick 
man's  groans,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  there  was.  no  hope. 
]t  did  not  occur  to  him  to  investigate  how  his  poor  limbs 
were  lying  under  the  coverlid,  to  try  to  comfort  him  materi- 
ally, and  if  he  could  not  improve  his  condition,  at  least  to 
make  the  best  of  a  bad  situation.  The  mere  thought  of 
these  details  made  a  cold  chill  run  down  his  back ;  and  the 
sick  man,  feeling  instinctively  that  his  brother  was  powerless 
to  help  him,  was  irritated.  So  Levin  kept  leaving  the  room 
under  various  pretexts,  and  coming  back  again,  —  unhappy  to 
be  with  his  brother,  still  more  unhappy  to  be  away  from  him, 
and  unable  to  stay  alone  by  himself. 

Kitty  saw  these  things  under  a  very  different  light :  as 
soon  as  she  came  near  the  dying  man,  she  was  filled  with 
pity  for  him,  and  instead  of  feeling  fear  or  repulsion,  her 
womanly  heart  moved  her  to  seek  every  means  of  ameliorat- 
ing his  sad  condition.  Convinced  that  it  was  her  duty  to 
help  him,  she  did  not  doubt  the  possibility  of  making  him 
more  comfortable,  and  she  set  herself  to  work  without  delay. 
The  details  which  repelled  her  husband  were  the  very  ones 
which  attracted  her  attention.  She  sent  for  a  doctor,  she 
sent  to  the  drug  store  ;  she  set  her  maid  and  Marya  Nikolay- 
evna  to  sweeping,  washing,  and  dusting,  and  she  even  helped 
them  herself.  She  had  all  needless  articles  carried  away, 
and  she  had  them  replaced  by  things  that  were  needed. 
Without  minding  those  whom  she  met  on  the  way,  she  came 
and  went  from  her  room  to  her  brother-in-law's,  unpack- 
ing the  articles  that  were  necessary,  —  cloths,  pillow-cases, 
towels,  nightshirts. 


498  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

The  waiter  who  served  the  table  d'hdte  dinner  several  times 
came  with  surly  face  when  she  rang  ;  but  she  gave  her  orders 
with  such  gentle  authority,  that  he  never  failed  to  execute 
them.  Levin  did  not  approve  of  all  this  commotion.  He 
did  not  see  any  reason  for  it,  and  he  was  afraid  of  worrying 
his  brother.  But  Nikolai  remained  calm  and  indifferent, 
albeit  somewhat  confused,  and  followed  with  his  eyes  the 
young  woman's  movements. 

When  Levin  came  back  from  the  doctor's,  he  saw,  on  open- 
ing the  door,  that  they  were  changing  the  sick  man's  linen. 
His  enormous  back  and  his  stooping  shoulders,  his  prominent 
ribs,  were  all  uncovered,  while  Mary  a  Nikolayevna  and  the 
maid  were  in  great  perplexity  over  the  sleeves  of  Nikolai's 
nightshirt,  into  which  they  were  vainly  striving  to  get  his 
long,  thin  arms.  Kitty  quickly  closed  the  door,  without 
looking  at  her  brother-in-law  ;  but  he  groaned,  and  she  has- 
tened to  him. 

"  Be  quick,"  she  said. 

"Da!  Don't  come  near  me,"  muttered  the  sick  man, 
angrily.  "  I  will  put  it  on  myself." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  asked  Marya. 

But  Kitty  heard  and  understood  that  he  was  ashamed  of 
being  found  in  such  a  state. 

"  I  am  not  looking,"  said  she,  trying  to  get  his  arm  into 
the  nightshirt.  "Marya  Nikolayevna,  you  go  to  the  other 
side  of  the  bed  and  help  us. — Go  and  get  a  little  flask  out  of 
my  bag,  and  bring  it  to  me,"  she  said  to  her  husband.  "  In 
the  meantime  we  will  finish  fixing  him." 

When  Levin  came  back  with  the  flask,  the  invalid  was  Vying 
down  in  bed,  and  everything  about  him  had  assumed  a  dif- 
ferent appearance.  Instead  of  the  stuffy  air  which  they 
were  breathing  before,  Kitty  was  perfuming  the  room  with 
aromatic  vinegar  from  an  atomizer.  The  dust  was  all  gone  ; 
a  carpet  was  spread  under  the  bed  ;  on  a  little  table  were 
arranged  the  medicine  vials,  a  carafe,  the  necessary  linen, 
and  Kitty's  English  embroidery.  On  another  table,  near  the 
bed,  stood  a  candle,  his  medicine,  and  powders.  The  sick 
man,  bathed,  with  smoothly  brushed  hair,  lying  between 
clean  sheets,  and  propped  up  by  several  pillows,  was  dressed 
in  a  clean  nightshirt,  the  white  collar  of  which  came  around 
his  extraordinarily  long,  thin  neck.  A  new  expression  of 
hope  shone  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at  Kitty. 

The  doctor  whom  Levin  found  at  the  club  was  not  the  one 


ANNA   KAEENINA.  499 

who  had  vexed  Nikolai'.  He  came  and  carefully  sounded 
the  sick  man's  lungs,  raised  his  head,  wrote  a  prescription, 
a iid  gave  explicit  directions  about  the  applications  of  his 
remedies  and  about  his  nourishment.  He  ordered  fresh 
eggs,  almost  raw,  and  seltzer  water  with  milk  heated  to  a 
certain  temperature.  After  he  was  gone,  the  sick  man  said 
a  few  words  to  his  brother,  only  the  last  words  of  which 
were  audible:  "...  your  Katva."  But  by  his  face  Levin 
knew'that  he  said  something  in  her  praise.  Then  he  called 
Katya,  as  he  had  named  her. 

"  I  feel  much  better,"  he  said  to  her.  "With  you  I  should 
get  well ;  everything  is  so  nice  now." 

He  tried  to  lift  his  sister-in-law's  hand  to  his  lips ;  but 
fearing  that  it  might  be  unpleasant  to  her,  he  contented  him- 
self with  caressing  it.  Kitty  pressed  his  hand  affectionately 
between  her  own. 

"  Now  turn  me  over  on  the  left  side,  and  all  of  you  go  to 
bed."  Kitty  alone  understood  what  he  said,  because  she 
was  near  him. 

"  Turn  him  on  his  side,"  said  she  to  her  husband.  "  He 
always  sleeps  on  that  side.  I  cannot  do  it  myself ;  and  I 
should  not  like  to  leave  it  to  the  man.  Can  }-ou  lift  him?" 
she  asked  of  Marya  Nikolayevna. 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  she  replied. 

Levin,  though  terrified  at  the  thought  of  lifting  this  fright- 
ful body  under  his  coverlid,  submitted  to  his  wife's  influence, 
and  put  his  arms  around  the  invalid,  with  that  resolute  air 
she  knew  so  well.  The  great  weight  of  these  emaciated 
limbs  surprised  him.  While  he  was,  with  difficulty,  changing 
his  brother's  position,  Nikolai  threw  his  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  Kitty  quickly  turned  the  pillows  so  as  to  make  the 
bed  more  comfortable.  Nikolai  kept  one  of  his  brother's  hands 
in  his,  and  drew  it  towards  him.  Levin's  heart  failed  him 
when  he  felt  him  put  it  to  his  lips  to  kiss  it.  He  let  him  do 
so,  however ;  then,  shaken  with  sobs,  he  hurried  from  the 
room,  without  being  able  to  utter  a  word. 

XIX. 

"HE  has  hidden  it  from  the  wise,  and  revealed  it  unto 
children  and  fools,"  thought  Levin  as  he  was  talking  with 
his  wife  a  little  while  later.  It  was  not  that  he  meant  to 
compare  himself  to  a  wise  man,  in  thus  quoting  the  Gospel. 


500  ANNA    KARtfNINA. 

He  did  not  call  himself  wise  ;  but  he  could  not  help  feeling 
that  he  was  more  intellectual  than  his  wife  and  Agaf'ya 
Mikhaylovna,  that  he  employed  all  the  powers  of  his  soul, 
when  he  thought  about  death.  This  terrible  thought  other 
manly  spirits  before  him  had  tried  to  fathom,  with  all  the 
forces  of  their  intellects.  He  had  read  their  works ;  but 
they  too  had  not  seemed  to  know  one  hundredth  part  as 
much  as  his  wife  and  his  old  nurse,  Agalya  Mikhaylovua,  and 
Kat}Ta,  —  as  his  brother  called  her,  and  he  also  now  began 
to  take  pleasure  in  doing,  —  had,  in  this  respect,  a  perfect 
sympathy,  though  otherwise  they  were  entirely  opposite. 
Both  knew,  without  a  particle  of  doubt,  the  meaning  of  life 
and  of  death,  and  though  they  were  of  course  incapable  of 
answering  the  questions  fermenting  in  Levin's  mind,  they 
had  their  own  way  of  explaining  these  great  facts  of  human 
existence;  and  they  shared 'their  belief  in  this  regard  with 
millions  of  human  beings.  As  a  proof  of  their  familiarity 
with  death,  they  could,  without  an  instant's  delay,  know 
what  to  do  for  those  who  were  dying,  and  feel  no  fear,  while 
Levin  and  those  who  like  him  could  spin  out  long  discussions 
on  the  theme  of  death,  had  no  courage,  and  felt  incapa- 
ble of  aiding  a  dying  man.  Konstantin  Levin,  when  alone 
with  his  brother,  would  gaze  with  terror  into  his  face,  and, 
with  growing  terror,  await  his  end  with  fear,  and  be  able 
to  think  of  nothing  to  do  for  him. 

The  sight  of  the  sick  man  paralyzed  him  ;  he  did  not  know 
what  to  say,  how  to  look  or  to  walk.  To  speak  of  indif- 
ferent things  seemed  unworthy,  impossible ;  to  speak  of 
melancholy  things,  of  death,  was  likewise  impossible  ;  to  be 
silent  was  even  worse.  "  If  I  look  at  him,  he  will  think  that 
I  am  studying  him,  I  fear ;  if  I  do  not  look  at  him,  he  will 
believe  that  my  thoughts  are  elsewhere.  To  walk  on  tiptoe 
irritates  him,  to  walk  as  usual  seems  brutal." 

Kitty  apparently  did  not  think  about  herself,  and  she  had 
not  the  time.  Occupied  only  with  the  invalid,  she  seemed 
to  have  a  clear  idea  of  what  to  do ;  and  she  succeeded  in  her 
endeavor. 

She  related  the  circumstances  of  their  marriage  ;  she  told 
about  herself  ;  she  smiled  upon  him  ;  she  caressed  him  ;  cited 
cases  of  extraordinary  cures  ;  and  it  was  all  delightful :  she 
understood  how  to  do  it.  Levin  could  not  see  where  she 
had  obtained  this  inner  wisdom.  And  neither  Kitty  nor 
Agafya  Mikhaylovna  was  satisfied  with  offering  physical 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  501 

solace  or  performing  purely  material  acts :  both  of  them 
instinctively,  vitally,  uureasoniugly,  turned  their  attention  to 
the  dying  man's  higher  needs.  In  speaking  of  the  old  ser- 
vant who  had  lately  passed  away,  Agafya  Mikhaylovna  said, 
"  Thank  God,  he  had  confession  and  extreme  unction  ;  God 
grant  us  all  to  die  likewise."  Katya,  though  she  was  busy 
with  her  care  of  the  linen,  the  medicines,  and  the  bandages, 
even  on  the  first  day  succeeded  in  persuading  her  brother- 
in-law  to  receive  the  sacrament. 

When  Levin  came  to  their  rooms  at  the  end  of  the  day,  he 
sat  down  with  bowed  head,  confused,  not  knowing  what  to 
do,  unable  to  think  of  eating  his  supper,  of  arranging  for  the 
night,  of  doing  anything  at  all,  even  talking  with  his  wife. 
But  Kitty  showed  extraordinary  animation.  She  had  supper 
brought,  she  herself  unpacked  tbe  trunks,  helped  undress 
the  beds  and  even  remembered  to  scatter  Persian  powder 
upon  them.  She  felt  the  same  excitement  and  quickness  of 
thought  which  men  of  genius  show  on  the  eve  of  battle,  or 
at  those  serious  and  critical  moments  in  their  lives  when  the 
chance  of  showing  their  value  presents  itself. 

It  was  not  yet  twelve  o'clock,  when  everything  was  neatly 
and  carefully  arranged :  their  two  hotel  rooms  presented 
the  appearance  of  private  apartments  ;  near  Kitty's  bed,  on 
a  table  covered  with  a  white  towel,  stood  her  travelling 
mirror,  with  her  combs  and  brushes. 

Levin  found  it  unpardonable  in  himself  to  eat,  to  sleep, 
even  to  speak ;  every  motion  seemed  inappropriate.  She, 
on  the  contrary,  arranged  her  toilet  articles  without  her 
activity  seeming  in  the  least  disturbing  or  unsuitable. 

Neither  of  them  could  eat,  however,  and  they  sat  long 
before  they  could  make  up  their  minds  to  go  to  bed. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  I  persuaded  him  to  receive  extreme 
unction  to-morrow,"  said  Kitty,  as  she  brushed  her  perfumed 
hair,  before  her  mirror,  in  her  nightgown.  "I  never  saw  it 
given  ;  but  mamma  told  me  that  they  repeat  prayers  for  res- 
toration to  health." 

"Do  you  believe  that  he  can  get  well?"  asked  Levin,  as 
he  watched  the  part  disappear  from  her  hair,  when  she  took 
the  comb  awa^y  from  her  little  round  head. 

"I  asked  the  doctor;  he  says  that  he  cannot  live  more 
than  three  days.  But  what  does  he  know  about  it?  I  am 
glad  that  I  persuaded  him,"  she  said,  looking  at  her  husband. 
"All  things  are  possible,"  she  added,  with  that  peculiar, 


502  ANNA    KARtfNINA. 

almost  crafty  expression  which  came  over  her  face  when 
she  spoke  about  religion. 

Never,  since  the  conversation  that  they  had  while  they 
were  engaged,  had  they  spoken  about  religion ;  but  Kitty 
still  continued  to  go  to  church  and  to  say  her  prayers  with 
the  calm  conviction  that  she  was  fulfilling  a  duty.  Notwith- 
standing the  confession,  which  her  husband  had  felt  impelled 
to  make,  she  firmly  believed  that  he  was  a  good  Christian, 
perhaps  better  even  than  herself.  He  amused  himself,  pos- 
sibly, by  calling  himself  an  unbeliever,  just  as  he  did  when 
he  jested  about  her  broderie  anglaise. 

"Da!  This  woman,  Marya  Nikolayevna,  would  never  have 
been  able  to  persuade  him,"  said  Levin ;  "  and  I  must 
confess  that  I  am  very,  very  glad  that  you  succeeded.  You 
made  everything  look  so  neat  and  comfortable."  He  took 
her  hand  without  daring  to  kiss  it ;  it  seemed  to  him  a 
profanation  even  to  kiss  her  hand  in  the  presence  of  death, 
but  he  pressed  it,  as  he  looked  into  her  shining  eyes  with 
evident  contrition. 

"You  would  have  suffered  too  terribly  all  alone,"  she 
said,  as  she  raised  her  arms  to  cover  the  glow  of  satisfaction 
that  she  felt  in  her  cheeks,  and  at  the  same  time  to  coil  up 
her  hair  and  fasten  it  to  the  top  of  her  head.  "  She  does 
not  know,  but  I  learned  many  things  at  Soden." 

"  Were  there  people  there  as  ill  as  he  is?" 

"  Yes  ;  more  so." 

"It  is  terrible  to  me  not  to  see  him  as  he  used  to  be 
when  he  was  a  boy.  You  can't  imagine  what  a  handsome 
fellow  he  was  ;  but  I  did  not  understand  him  then." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  I  believe  you.  I  feel  that  we  should 
have  been  friends,"  said  she,  and  she  turned  toward  her 
husband,  frightened  at  what  she  had  said,  and  the  tears  shone 
in  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  would  have  been,"  he  said,  mournful!}-.  "He  is 
one  of  those  men  of  whom  one  can  say  with  reason  that  he 
was  not  meant  for  this  world." 

"  Meanwhile,  we  must  not  forget  that  we  have  many  days 
ahead  of  us ;  it  is  time  to  go  to  bed,"  said  Kitty,  consult- 
ing her  tiny  watch. 


ANNA   KARtfNINA.  503 


XX. 

DEATH. 

COMMUHION  was  administered  the  next  morning.  Nikolai 
prayed  fervently  during  the  ceremony.  Passionate  and 
hopeful  entreaty  could  be  read  in  his  great  eyes  gazing  at 
the  sacred  image  placed  on  a  card-table  covered  with  a 
colored  towel.  It  was  terrible  for  Levin  to  look  at  him 
so  ;  for  he  knew  that  the  pain  at  tearing  himself  from  life,  to 
which  he  clung  so  desperately,  would  be  all  the  more  cruel. 
He  knew  his  brother  and  his  brother's  ideas  ;  knew  that  his 
skepticism  was  not  the  result  of  a  desire  to  abandon  religion 
for  the  sake  of  a  freer  life.  His  religious  beliefs  had  been 
shaken  by  the  theories  of  modern  science ;  therefore  his 
return  to  faith  was  not  logical  or  normal,  owing  simply  to 
his  overmastering  desire  for  recovery  ;  it  could  not  be  any- 
thing else  than  temporary  and  unreal.  Kitty  had  formed  this 
hope  by  her  stories  of  extraordinary  cures. 

Levin  was  troubled  by  these  thoughts  as  he  looked  at  his 
brother's  hopeful  face,  as  he  saw  his  difficulty  in  lifting  his 
emaciated  hand  to  touch  his  yellowed  forehead  to  make 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  saw  his  fleshless  shoulders,  and 
his  hollow,  rattling  chest,  unable  longer  to  contain  the  life 
which  he  was  begging  to  have  restored.  During  the  sacra- 
ment Levin  did  what  he  had  done  a  thousand  times,  skeptic 
that  he  was,  — 

"  Heal  this  man  if  Thou  dost  exist,"  he  said,  addressing 
God,  "  and  Thou  will  save  me  also." 

The  invalid  felt  suddenly  better  after  the  ceremony  ;  for 
more  than  an  hour  he  did  not  cough  once.  He  assured 
Kitty,  as  he  kissed  her  hand  with  smiles  and  tears  of  joy, 
that  he  was  not  suffering,  and  that  he  felt  a  return  of 
strength  and  appetite.  When  his  broth  was  brought,  he  got 
up  by  himself  and  asked  for  a  cutlet.  Impossible  as  his 
recovery  was,  Levin  and  Kitty  spent  this  hour  in  a  kind  of 
timid  joy. 

"Is  tie  not  better?" 

"  Much  better." 

"  It  is  astonishing." 

"  Why  should  it  be  astonishing?  He  is  certainly  better," 
they  whispered,  smiling  at  each  other. 

The  illusion  did  not  last.     After  a  painful  nap  of  half  an 


504  ANNA   KAfiENINA. 

hour,  the  invalid  was  wakened  by  a  terrible  spell  of  cough- 
ing. The  hopes  vanished  for  all,  even  for  the  sick  man 
himself.  Forgetting  his  belief  of  an  hour  before,  and 
ashamed  even  to  remember  it,  he  asked  for  a  bottle  of 
iodine  to  breath. 

Levin  gave  it  to  him,  and  his  brother  looked  at  it  with  the 
same  imploring,  passionate  look  which  he  had  given  the 
image,  as  if  to  confirm  the  words  of  the  doctor,  who  attri- 
buted miraculous  virtues  to  iodine. 

"  Kitty  isn't  here?"  he  asked,  in  his  hoarse  whisper,  when 
Levin  had  unwillingly  repeated  the  doctor's  words. 

"  Non?  then  I  can  speak!  —  I  played  the  comedy  for  her 
sake.  —  She  is  so  sweet !  But  you  and  I  cannot  deceive 
ourselves  !  This  is  what  I  pin  my  faith  to,"  said  he,  press- 
ing the  bottle  in  his  long  hands  as  he  smelled  of  the  iodine. 

About  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  Levin  and  his  wife 
were  taking  tea  in  their  room,  when  Marya  Nikolayevmi 
came  running  towards  them  all  out  of  breath.  She  was 
pale,  and  her  lips  trembled.  "  He  is  dying  !  "  she  stammered, 
"  I  am  afraid  that  he  is  dying  !  " 

Both  of  them  hurried  to  Nikolai'.  He  was  sitting  up,  lean- 
ing over  one  side  of  the  bed,  his  head  bowed,  his  long  back 
bent. 

"  How  do  you  feel  ?  "  asked  Levin  tenderly,  after  a  moment 
of  silence. 

"  I  feel  that  I  am  going,"  whispered  Nikolai,  struggling 
painfully  to  speak,  but  as  yet  pronouncing  the  words  dis- 
tinctly. Without  raising  his  head  he  turned  his  eyes  towards 
his  brother,  whose  face  he  could  no  longer  see.  "  Katya, 
go  away  !  "  he  whispered  once  again. 

Levin  led  his  wife  gently  from  the  room. 

"  I  am  going,"  the  dying  man  whispered  once  again. 

"Why  do  you  think  so?"  asked  Levin  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something. 

"  Because  I  am  going,"  he  repeated,  as  if  he  had  an  affec- 
tion for  the  phrase.  "  Jt  is  the  end." 

Marya  Nikolayevna  came  to  him. 

"  Lie  down  ;  you  will  feel  better." 

"  Soon  I  shall  be  lying  calmly,  dead,"  he  whispered  with 
a  sort  of  mournful  irony.  "Nu!  Bury  me  whenever  you 
please." 

Levin  laid  his  brother  down  on  his  back,  took  a  seat  near 
him,  and,  hardly  able  to  breathe,  studied  his  face.  The  dy- 


ANNA  KARtfNINA.  505 

ing  man's  eyes  were  shut,  but  the  muscles  of  his  forehead 
twitched  from  time  to  time  as  though  he  were  in  deep  thought. 
Levin  involuntarily  tried  to  unriddle  what  was  passing  in  the 
dying  man's  mind  ;  this  stern  face,  and  the  play  of  the  mus- 
cles above  his  eyebrows,  seemed  to  show  that  his  brother 
perceived  mysteries  hidden  from  him. 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  So,"  the  dying  man  murmured  slowly, 
with  long  pauses  ;  "  lay  me  down  !  "  Then  long  silence 
followed.  "So!"  said  he  suddenly,  as  though  all  had  been 
explained  for  him.  "  O  Lord  !  "  and  he  sighed  heavily. 

Marya  Nikolayevna  felt  of  his  feet.  "  The}*  are  growing 
cold,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

Long  the  sick  man  remained  motionless  ;  but  he  was  still 
alive,  and  sighed  from  time  to  time.  Weary  from  the  mental 
strain,  Levin  felt  that  he  could  not  understand  what  his 
brother  meant  to  express.  He  seemed  to  be  fur  away  from 
the  dying  man  ;  he  could  no  longer  think  of  the  mystery  of 
death  ;  the  most  incongruous  ideas  came  into  his  mind.  He 
asked  himself  what  he  was  going  to  do  ;  —  to  close  his  eyes, 
dress  him,  order  the  coffin  ?  Strange  !  he  felt  cold  and  indif- 
ferent ;  the  principal  feeling  that  he  had  was  one  almost 
envy  :  his  brother  now  would  know  the  certainty  which  lie 
himself  could  not  approach.  • 

Long  he  waited  by  his  bedside,  expecting  the  end :  it  did 
not  come.  The  door  opened,  and  Kitty  came  in.  He  got 
up  to  stop  her,  but  instantly  the  dying  man  moved. 

"  No,  don't  go  away  !  "  said  Nikolai',  stretching  out  his 
hand.  Levin  took  it,  and  angrily  motioned  his  wife  away. 

Still  holding  the  dying  man's  hand,  he  waited  a  half-hour — 
an  hour — and  still  another  hour.  He  ceased  to  think  of  death  ; 
he  thought  what  Kitty  was  doing.  Who  could  it  be  that  had 
the  next  room  ?  Had  the  doctor  a  house  of  his  own  ?  Then 
he  became  hungry  and  sleepy.  He  gently  let  go  the  dying 
man's  hand  and  felt  of  his  feet.  They  were  cold  ;  but  still 
Nikolai'  was  breathing.  Levin  tried  to  stand  on  his  tiptoes  ; 
but  again  the  invalid  stirred,  and  said,  "  Don't  go  away ! " 


Morning :  the  situation  was  unchanged.  Levin  gently 
arose,  and  without  looking  at  his  brother  went  to  his  room, 
threw  himself  on  the  bed,  and  fell  asleep.  When  he  awoke, 
instead  of  hearing  of  his  brother's  death  as  he  expected,  he 
was  told  that  he  had  come  to  his  senses  again.  He  was  sit- 


506  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

ting  up  in  bed  and  wanted  something  to  eat.  He  no  longer 
spoke  of  death,  but  expressed  the  hope  of  getting  well  again, 
and  was  more  irritable  and  restless  than  before.  No  one, 
not  even  his  brother  or  Kitty,  could  calm  him.  He  blamed 
every  one  for  his  sufferings,  demanded  that  the  famous  doctor 
from  Moscow  should  be  sent  for ;  and  whenever  they  asked 
him  how  he  was,  he  replied  with  expressions  of  anger  and 
reproach,  "  I  am  suffering  terrible,  unendurable  agony." 

He  suffered  more  and  more,  and  his  irritableness  increased. 
Even  Kitty  could  not  control  him  ;  and  Leviu  saw  that  she 
was  suffering  physically  as  well  as  morally,  although  she 
would  not  confess  it.  The  sadness  caused  by  the  approach 
of  death  was  joined  with  other  feelings.  All  knew  that  the 
end  was  inevitable  ;  they  saw  the  invalid  almost  dead,  arid 
they  felt  that  the  sooner  it  came,  the  better  it  would  be  ;  yet, 
still,  the}'  continued  to  give  medicines,  to  call  the  doctor,  and 
try  new  remedies.  But  they  deceived  him  and  themselves 
and  each  other ;  and  this  dissimulation  was  more  painful  to 
Konstantin  than  to  the  others,  because  he  loved  his  brother 
more  deeply,  and  because  nothing  was  more  contrary  to  his 
nature  than  lack  of  sincerity. 

Levin,  who  had  long  felt  the  desire  to  reconcile  his  two 
brothers  before  Nikolai  should  die,  wrote  to  Sergei  Ivano- 
vitch.  He  replied,  and  Konstantin  read  the  letter  to  the  sick 
man  :  Sergei  Ivanovitch  could  not  come,  but  he  asked  his 
brother's  pardon  in  touching  terms. 

Nikolai  said  nothing. 

"  What  shall  I  write  him?  "  asked  Konstantin.  "  I  hope 
that  you  are  not  angry  with  him." 

"  No,  not  at  all,"  replied  Nikolai,  in  a  tone  of  vexation. 
"  Write  him  to  send  me  the  doctor." 

Three  cruel  days  passed  in  this  manner,  the  invalid  remain- 
ing in  the  same  condition.  All  those  who  saw  him — the 
waiter  and  the  landlord  and  all  the  lodgers  and  the  doctor 
and  Marya  Nikolayevna  and  Levin  and  Kitty  —  wished  only 
one  thing,  and  spoke  only  of  death  ;  but  the  invalid  alone  did 
not  express  any  such  wish,  and  he  continually  grumbled  be- 
cause they  did  not  send  for  the  doctor  ;  and  he  took  his  rem- 
edies and  he  spoke  of  life.  At  rare  moments,  when  he  was 
under  the  influence  of  opiates,  he  would  forget  his  pangs,  and 
in  a  sort  of  doze  confess  what  weighed  on  his  mind  as  well 
as  on  the  others':  "Ach!  If  this  could  only  end!"  or 
"  When  this  is  over." 


ANNA  KARfiNlNA.  507 

His  sufferings,  growing  ever  more  and  more  severe,  did 
their  work  and  prepared  him  to  die.  Every  movement  was 
a  pang  ;  every  member  of  his  poor  body  caused  him  pain. 
The  memories,  the  impressions,  and  the  thoughts  of  the  past 
were  odious  to  him  ;  the  sight  of  those  who  surrounded  him, 
and  their  talk,  were  a  trial  to  him.  Every  one  felt  it ;  no 
one  dared  to  use  any  freedom  of  motion,  to  express  a  wish 
or  an  idea.  Life  for  all  concerned  was  concentrated  in  the 
feeling  of  the  dying  man's  sufferings,  and  in  an  ardent  desire 
to  see  him  freed  from  them. 

The  supreme  moment  came  when  death  to  him  seemed  de- 
sirable as  a  truce  to  his  pains,  even  as  a  joy.  Everything,  — 
hunger,  weariness,  thirst,  —  these  sensations  which  once  after 
suffering  or  privation  caused  him  a  certain  pleasure,  were  now 
only  painful.  He  could  only  hope  to  be  delivered  from  the 
very  source  of  his  woes,  from  his  tortured  body.  Without 
finding  words  to  express  this  thought,  he  continued  out  of 
habit  to  ask  for  what  once  gave  him  comfort.  "  Turn  me 
on  the  other  side,"  he  would  say,  and  then  immediately  wish 
to  return  to  his  former  position.  "  Give  me  bouillon!  Take 
it  away  !  Speak,  and  don't  stay  so  still !  "  and  as  soon  as 
any  one  began  to  speak,  he  would  shut  his  eyes  and  show 
fatigue,  indifference,  and  disgust. 

On  the  tenth  day  after  their  arrival  Kitty  was  taken  ill ; 
and  the  doctor  declared  that  it  was  caused  by  her  emotions 
and  weariness.  He  advised  quiet  and  rest. 

Yet,  after  dinner,  she  got  up  and  went  as  usual  with  her 
work  to  Nikolai's  room.  He  looked  at  her  sternly,  and  smiled 
scornfully  when  she  told  him  that  she  had  been  ill.  All  day 
long  he  never  ceased  to  cough  and  to  groan  piteously. 

"  How  do  you  feel?  "  she  asked. 

"Worse,"  he  replied  with  difficulty.     "  I  am  in  pain." 

"  Where  do  you  feel  the  pain  ?  " 

"All  over." 

"  You  will  see  it'll  be  all  over  to-day,"  said  Marya 
Nikolayevna  in  an  undertone. 

Levin  hushed  her,  thinking  that  his  brother,  whose  ear  was 
very  acute,  might  hear  ;  he  turned  and  looked  at  him.  Nikolai 
had  heard,  but  the  words  made  no  impression ;  his  look 
remained  as  before,  reproachful  and  intense. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so?"  asked  Levin,  taking  her  into 
the  corridor. 

"  He  tries  to  uncover  himself." 


508  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  This  way,"  she  said,  plucking  at  the  folds  of  her  woolen 
dress.  Levin  himself  noticed  that  all  that  day  the  invalid  had 
been  plucking  at  his  bed-clothes  as  though  to  uncover 
himself. 

Marya  Nikolayevna's  prediction  came  true.  Towards 
evening  Nikolai  had  not  strength  enough  left  to  lift  his 
arms,  and  his  motionless  eyes  assumed  an  expression  of 
concentrated  attention.  Even  when  his  brother  and  Kitty 
bent  over  him  in  order  that  he  might  see  them,  this  look 
remained  unchanged.  Kitty  had  the  priest  summoned  to 
say  the  prayers  for  the  dying. 

During  the  ceremony  the  invalid,  by  whose  bedside  stood 
Konstantin,  Kitty,  and  MaiTa  Nikolayevna,  gave  no  sign  of 
life.  But  before  the  prayers  were  ended,  he  stretched 
himself  a  little,  sighed,  and  opened  his  eyes.  The  priest, 
having  finished  the  prayer,  placed  the  crucifix  on  his  icy 
brow,  for  a  moment  or  two  he  stood  silently  near  the  bed, 
then  he  touched  with  his  fingers  the  huge  bloodless  hand  of 
the  dying  man. 

"It  is  all  over,"  he  said  at  last,  about  to  go  away;  then 
suddenh7  Nicola'i's  lips  trembled  slightly,  and  from  the  depths 
of  his  breast  came  these  words,  which  sounded  distinctly  in 
the  room,  — 

"  Not  yet  —  soon." 

A  moment  later  his  face  brightened,  a  smile  came  to  his 
lips,  and  the  women  hastened  to  perform  the  last  service  of 
his  mortal  toilet. 

All  Levin's  horror  at  the  terrible  enigma  of  death  was 
awakened  with  the  same  intensity  as  on  that  autumn  night 
when  his  brother  came  to  see  him.  More  than  ever  he  felt 
his  inability  to  fathom  this  mystery  and  the  terror,  now  that 
he  felt  it  so  near  to  him,  and  so  inevitable.  His  wife's 
presence  prevented  him  from  falling  into  despair ;  for  in 
spite  of  his  terrors  he  felt  the  need  of  living,  and  loving. 
He  felt  that  love  alone  saved  him  from  despair,  and  became 
all  the  stronger  and  purer  because  it  was  threatened. 

And  scarcely  had  this  mystery  of  death  taken  place  before 
he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  another  miracle  of  love 
and  of  life  equally  unfathomable. 

The  doctor  told  him  of  Kitty's  hopes  of  maternity. 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  509 


XXI. 

As  soon  as  Kar^nin  learned  from  Betsy  and  Stepan  Arka- 
dy evitch  that  every  oue,  and  Aima  more  than  all,  expected 
him  to  give  his  wife  her  freedom,  he.  felt  himself  in  per- 
plexity. Unable  to  make  a  decision  personally,  he  placed 
his  fate  in  the  hands  of  the  others,  glad  enough  to  rid  himself 
of  it,  and  ready  to  accept  anything  that  might  be  proposed 
to  him.  He  did  not  awake  to  the  reality  until  the  morning 
after  Anna's  departure,  when  the  English  governess  asked 
if  she  should  dine  with  him  or  by  herself. 

During  the  first  days  after  Anna's  departure,  Alekse"! 
Aleksandrovitch  kept  up  his  audiences,  went  to  Council,  dined 
at  home  as  usual ;  all  the  powers  of  his  mind  had  only  one 
aim,  —  to  appear  calm  and  indifferent.  He  made  superhuman 
efforts  to  answer  the  questions  of  the  servants  in  regard  to 
what  should  be  done  about  Anna's  rooms  and  her  things,  and 
to  show  the  manner  of  a  man  prepared  for  whatever  hap- 
pened, and  who  saw  nothing  extraordinary  in  it.  Two  days 
he  succeeded  in  hiding  his  pain,  but  on  the  third,  when 
Kerne"!  handed  him  a  bill  from  the  milliner's  shops,  which 
Anna  had  forgotten  to  pay,  and  told  him  that  the  messenger 
was  there,  Aleksei  had  him  introduced. 

"Your  Excellency  will  please  excuse  us,"  said  the  messen- 
ger, '•  and  give  us  Madam's  address,  if  it  be  to  her  that  we 
must  write." 

Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch  appeared  to  be  cogitating,  then 
suddenly  turning  round,  he  sat  down  near  the  table  ;  for  some 
time  he  sat  there,  his  head  resting  on  his  hand,  trying  in  vain 
to  speak. 

Kornei  understood  his  master,  and  told  the  messenger  to 
come  another  time.  Left  alone,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch 
felt  that  he  had  no  longer  the  power  to  keep  up  the  show  of 
firmness  and  ease  ;  he  sent  away  his  carriage,  which  was 
waiting  for  him,  refused  to  see  visitors,  and  no  longer  went 
out  to  dine. 

He  felt  that  he  could  not  endure  the  disdain  and  hardness 
which  he  clearly  read  on  the  faces  of  the  messenger,  of  his 
servants,  of  all  whom  he  met,  without  exception.  If  he  had 
deserved  this  public  detestation  by  blameworthy  conduct,  he 
might  have  hoped  to  regain  the  esteem  of  the  world  by  im- 
provement in  conduct :  but  he  was  not  to  blame ;  he  was 


510  ANNA    KARENINA. 

unhappy,  and  with  an  unhappiness  that  was  odious  and 
shameful.  He  knew  that  it  was  precisely  for  the  reason  that 
his  heart  was  torn  that  they  would  be  pitiless  to  him.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  his  fellow-men  persecuted  him  as  dogs 
torture  to  death  some  poor  cur  maimed  and  howling  with 
pain.  He  knew  that  the  only  safety  -from  men  was  to  hide 
his  wounds  ;  but  two  days  of  struggle  had  already  used  up  his 
energies. 

His  despair  was  made  deeper  by  the  knowledge  that  he 
was  absolutely  alone  with  his  suffering.  In  all  Petersburg 
there  was  not  a  man  to  whom  he  could  confide  all  his  wretch- 
edness, not  one  who  would  have  any  pity  for  him  now,  not 
as  a  lofty  tchinovnik  or  a  member  of  society,  but  simply  as  a 
human  being  in  despair. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  had  lost  his  mother  when  he  was 
ten  years  old  ;  he  had  no  remembrance  of  his  father ;  he  and 
his  one  brother  were  left  orphans  with  a  very  small  inheri- 
tance ;  their  uncle  Kareniu,  a  man  of  influence,  held  in  high 
esteem  by  the  late  emperor,  took  charge  of  their  bringing  up. 

After  a  successful  course  at  the  gymnasium  and  the 
university.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  through  his  uncle's  aid, 
made  a  brilliant  start  in  official  life,  and  burning  with  ambi- 
tion, devoted  himself  exclusively  to  his  career.  He  formed 
no  ties  of  intimacy  either  in  the  gymnasium  or  the  university, 
or  afterward  in  society  ;  his  brother  alone  was  dear  to  him, 
but  he  entered  the  department  of  foreign  affairs,  and  died 
abroad  soon  after  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch' s  marriage. 

While  Karenin  was  governor  of  one  of  the  provinces, 
Anna's  aunt,  a  very  wealthy  bartiina,  introduced  her  niece  to 
this  governor,  who  was  young  for  such  a  position,  if  not  in 
years,  and  she  forced  him  to  the  alternative  of  getting  mar- 
ried or  leaving  the  city.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  long  hesi- 
tated. There  seemed  as  many  reasons  against  marriage  as 
in  its  favor,  but  he  could  not  in  the  present  case  apply  his 
favorite  maxim,  "  when  in  doubt,  don't."  Anna's  aunt  sent 
word  to  him  through  a  friend  that  his  attentions  had  compro- 
mised the  young  lady,  and  that  as  a  man  of  honor  he  must 
offer  her  his  hand.  He  offered  himself,  and  gave  her,  first  as 
fiancee,  afterwards  as  wife,  all  the  affection  which  it  was  in 
his  power  to  show. 

This  attachment  prevented  him  from  feeling  the  need  of 
any  other  intimacy.  And  now  out  of  all  the  number  of  his 
acquaintances  he  had  not  one  friend.  His  position  was  sue  h 


ANXA   KARtfNINA.  511 

that  he  could  invite  great  personages  to  dinner,  ask  favors  of 
them  in  the  interests  of  his  pumic  capacity  or  protection  for 
some  petition  ;  he  could  even  discuss  and  freely  criticize  the 
actions  of  other  people  and  have  a  certain  number  of  listen- 
ers, but  his  relations  of  cordiality  with  these  people  were 
exclusively  confined  to  this  official  domain,  from  which  it 
was  impossible  to  escape.  There  was  one  university  profes- 
sor with  whom  he  felt  well  acquainted,  and  to  whom  he 
would  have  been  willing  to  speak  of  his  private  sorrows,  but 
this  professor  happened  to  be  away.  Of  all  the  people  in 
Petersburg  the  nearest  and  most  practicable  acquaintances 
were  his  chief  secretary  and  his  doctor. 

Mikhail  Basilic  vitch  Sliudin  was  a  simple,  good,  intelligent, 
and  well-bred  man,  and  he  seemed  full  of  S3'mpathy  for 
Kar6nin  ;  but  the  hierarchy  of  office  put  a  barrier  between 
them  which  silenced  confidences. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  having  signed  the  papers  which 
he  brought,  found  it  impossible,  as  he  looked  at  Sliudin,  to 
open  his  heart  to  him.  The  question,  "•  Do  you  know  my 
misfortune?"  was  on  his  lips  ;  he  could  not  give  it  utterance, 
and  when  they  parted,  he  limited  himself  to  his  usual  formula 
of  farewell,  k'  You  will  have  the  goodness  to  prepare  me  this 
work." 

The  doctor  was  another  man  who  was  well  disposed  to  him, 
but  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  knew  he  was  a  very  busy  man,  and 
between  them  there  was  a  tacit  pledge  by  which  each  recog- 
nized the  other  as  full  of  business,  and  thus  cut  short  their 
interviews. 

As  to  friends  among  women,  and  chief  among  these  the 
Countess  Lidia,  Kar£nin  did  not  think  of  them  at  ah1 .  Women 
simply  as  women  were  strange  and  repulsive. 

XXII. 

ALEKSEI  ALEKSANDROVITCH  forgot  the  Countess  Lidia 
Ivanovua,  but  she  did  not  forget  him.  She  reached  his 
house  at  that  very  moment  of  solitary  despair  when  he  sat 
motionless,  with  his  head  between  his  hands.  She  did  not 
wait  to  be  announced,  but  made  her  way  to  Karenin's 
library. 

"  j'ai  for$  la  consigne  "  [I  have  broken  your  commands], 
she  said,  as  she  came  in  with  rapid  steps,  breathless  with 
emotion  and  agitation.  "I  know  all,  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 


512  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

vitch,  my  friend ! "  and  she  pressed  his  hand  between  her 
own,  and  looked  at  him  from  the  depths  of  her  beautiful  eyes. 

Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch,  with  a  frown,  arose,  and,  having 
withdrawn  his  hand,  offered  her  a  chair.  "  I  beg  you  to  sit 
down.  I  am  not  receiving  because  I  am  suffering,  Countess," 
he  said,  and  his  lips  quivered. 

"My  friend!"  repeated  the  countess,  without  taking  her 
eyes  from  him.  She  lifted  her  eyebrows  so  that  they  formed 
a  triangle  on  her  forehead,  and  this  grimace  made  her  natu- 
rally ugly  face  still  more  ugly  than  before.  Aleks6i  Aleksan- 
drovitch  understood  that  she  was  on  the  point  of  crying  from 
pity,  and  his  heart  softened  towards  her.  He  seized  her  fat 
hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  My  friend,"  she  said  again,  in  a  voice  -half  stifled  with 
emotion,  "  you  must  not  give  yourself  up  in  this  way  to  3"our 
grief.  It  is  great,  but  you  must  try  to  conquer  it." 

"  I  am  wounded,  I  am  killed,  1  am  no  longer  a  man,"  said 
Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch,  letting  go  the  countess's  hand  and 
still  looking  at  her  with  his  eyes  full  of  tears.  "  My  situa- 
tion is  all  the  more  unbearable  because  I  can  find  neither  in 
myself  nor  outside  of  mvself  any  help  toward  endurance  of 
it." 

"  You  will  find  this  help,  not  in  me,  though  I  beg  you  to 
believe  in  my  friendship.  Our  help  is  love,  the  love  which 
He  has  given  for  an  inheritance.  His  yoke  is  easy,"  she 
continued,  with  the  exalted  look  that  Karenin  knew  so  well. 
"  He  will  hear  you  and  will  give  you  His  aid." 

These  words  were  sweet  to  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch, 
albeit  the}-  were  the  signs  of  a  new  mystical  exaltation  just 
introduced  into  Petersburg. 

"  I  am  weak,  I  am  humiliated.  I  foresaw  nothing  of  this, 
and  now  I  cannot  understand  it." 

"  My  friend  !"  repeated  the  countess. 

"  I  do  not  mourn  so  much  my  loss,"  said  Aleks£i  Alek- 
sandrovitch ;  ' '  but'  I  cannot  help  a  feeling  of  shame  for  the 
situation  in  which  I  am  placed  in  the  t^yes  of  the  world.  It 
is  bad,  and  I  cannot,  I  cannot  bear  it." 

"It  is  not  you  who  have  performed  this  noble  act  of  for- 
giveness which  has  filled  me  with  envy.  It  is  He  dwelling  in 
your  heart.  So,  too,  you  have  no  cause  for  shame,"  said  the 
countess,  ecstatically  raising  her  eyes. 

Karenin  frowned,  and  pressing  his  hands  together,  he 
made  his  knuckles  crack. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  513 

"You  must  know  all  the  details,"  he  said,  in  his  shrill 
voice.  "Man's  powers  are  limited,  countess;  and  i  have 
reached  the  limit  of  mine.  All  this  day  I  have  wasted  in 
domestic  details,  arisiar/  [he  accented  the  word]  from  my 
new,  lonely  situation.  The  servants,  the  governess,  the  ac- 
counts,—  this  is  a  slow  fire  devouring  me,  and  1  have  not 
strength  to  endure  it.  Yesterday-  at  dinner  —  I  cannot 
contain  myself — I  cannot  endure  to  have  my  son  look  at 
me  —  he  did  not  dare  to  ask  me  any  questions,  and  I  did 
not  dare  to  look  at  him.  He  was  afraid  to  look  at  me  — 
but  that  is  a  mere  trifle." 

Kare"nin  wanted  to  speak  of  the  bill  that  had  been  brought 
him.  His  voice  trembled,  and  he  stopped.  This  bill  on  blue 
paper,  for  a  hat  and  ribbons,  was  a  recollection  that  made 
him  pity  himself. 

"  I  understand,  nvy  friend,  I  understand  it  all.  Aid  and 
consolation  you  will  not  find  in  me,  but  I  have  come  to  help 
you  if  I  can.  If  I  could  take  from  you  these  petty  annoying 
tasks —  I  think  that  a  woman's  word,  a  woman's  hand 
are  needed  ;  will  you  let  me  help  you  ?  " 

Karenin  was  silent,  and  pressed  her  hand  gratefully. 

"We  will  look  after  Serozha  together.  I  am  not  strong 
in  practical  affairs,  but  I  can  get  used  to  them,  and  I  will  be 
your  ekonomka.  Do  not  thank  me  ;  I  do  not  do  it  of  my- 
self"— 

"  I  cannot  help  being  grateful." 

"But,  my  friend,  do  not  yield  to  the  sentiment  of  which 
you  spoke  a  moment  ago.  How  can  you  be  ashamed  of 
what  is  the  highest  degree  of  Christian  perfection?  He  u-lio 
humbles  himself  shall  be  exalted.  And  you  cannot  thank  me. 
Thank  Him,  pray  to  Him  for  help.  In  Him  alone  we  can 
find  peace,  consolation,  salvation,  and  love." 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  Aleks£i  Aleksandro- 
vitch  felt  that  she  was  praying. 

Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  listened  to  her,  and  this  phrase- 
ology which  was  once  unpleasant  to  him  now  seemed  natural 
and  soothing.  He  did  not  approve  this  new  ecstatic  mysti- 
cism which  was  now  so  fashionable.  He  was  a  sincere 
believer,  and  religion  interested  him  principally  in  its  relation 
to  politics ;  thus  the  new  teachings  aroused  his  antipathy 
from  principle.  The  countess  had  not  his  approval  in  her 
enthusiastic  acceptation  of  them,  but  instead  of  discussing 
the  subject  with  her,  he  generally  turned  the  conversation  or 


514  ANNA    KARENINA. 

did  not  reply.  But  now  he  let  her  speak  without  hindrance, 
a, ml  even  found  a  secret  pleasure  in  her  words. 

"  I  am  very,  very  grateful  to  you,  botli  for  your  words  and 
for  your  sympathy,"  he  said,  when  she  had  ended  her 
prayer. 

Again  the  countess  pressed  her  friend's  hand. 

"  Now  1  am  going  to  set  to  work,"  said  she  with  a  smile, 
wiping  away  the  traces  of  tears  on  her  face.  "  I  am  going 
to  Serozha,  and  I  shall  not  trouble  you  except  in  serious 
difficulties." 

Tne  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  arose  and  went  to  the  boy, 
and  while  she  bathed  the  scared  little  fellow's  cheeks  with 
her  tears,  she  told  him  that  his  father  was  a  saint  and  his 
mother  was  dead. 

The  countess  fulfilled  her  promise.  She  took  charge  of 
the  details  of  Aleks^i  Aleksandrovitch's  house,  but  she 
exaggerated  in  no  respect  when  she  declared  that  she  was 
not  strong  in  practical  affairs.  It  was  impossible  to  carry 
out  her  orders,  and  so  they  were  not  executed,  and  the  man- 
agement gradually  came  into  the  hands  of  Kornei,  the 
valet.  He  by  degrees  wonted  his  master  to  listen  (while  he 
was  dressing)  to  such  reports  as  he  deemed  it  best  to  make. 
The  countess's  help  was  none  the  less  useful,  however. 
Her  affection  and  esteem  were  a  moral  support  to  him,  and, 
to  her  consolation,  she  almost  succeeded  in  converting  him. 
At  least,  his  lukewarmness  through  her  influence  was 
changed  into  a  fervent  and  genuine  sympathy  for  Christian 
instruction,  such  as  shortly  alter  came  into  vogue  in  Peters- 
burg. This  conversion  was  not  difficult.  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch,  as  well  as  the  countess  and  all  those  who  fell 
under  the  sway  of  these  new  ideas,  were  not  gifted  with 
great  imagination,  or  at  least  that  faculty  of  the  mind 
by  which  the  illusions  of  the  imagination  have  sufficient 
conformity  with  reality  to  cause  their  acceptation.  Thus  he 
saw  no  impossibility  or  unlikelihood  in  death  existing  for 
unbelievers  and  not  for  him,  his  soul  being  already  free  from 
sin  because  he  held  a  complete  and  unquestioning  faith, 
judged  in  his  own  way,  or  that  even  in  this  world  he  might 
look  up  >n  his  safety  as  assured. 

Nevertheless,  the  frivolity,  the  error,  of  these  doctrines 
often  struck  him.  He  then  felt  how  much  deeper  was  the  joy 
caused  by  the  irresistible  feeling  that  impelled  him  to  grant 
Anna's  pardon  than  from  that  caused  by  the  constant  thought 


ANNA    KAntiXIXA.  515 

that  Christ  dwelt  in  his  soul,  and  that  by  signing  certain 
papers  he  was  following  His  will.  But  illusory  as  this 
moral  loftiness  was,  it  was  indispensable  in  his  present 
humiliation.  He  felt  the  imperious  necessity  of  looking 
down  from  the  height  of  this  imaginary  elevation,  upon 
those  who  despised  him,  and  he  clung  to  his  new  convictions 
as  to  a  plauk  of  safety. 

XXIII. 

THE  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  had  been  married  when  she 
was  a  very  young  and  enthusiastic  girl  to  a  good-natured 
young  fellow,  very  wealthy,  aristocratic,  and  dissolute. 
Two  months  after  the  wedding  her  husband  deserted  her. 
He  had  replied  to  her  effusive  expressions  of  love  with 
scorn  and  even  hatred  which  no  one  who  knew  the  count's 
kindliness,  and  were  not  acquainted  with  the  faults  of  Lidia's 
romantic  nature,  could  comprehend.  Since  then,  without 
any  formal  divorce,  they  had  lived  apart,  each  in  his  own 
way  ;  the  husband  never  meeting  his  wife  without  that  bit- 
terness which  puzzled  people  to  understand. 

The  countess  long  ago  ceased  to  worship  her  husband, 
but  she  was  always  in  love  with  some  one  and  not  seldom 
with  several  at  once — men  and  women  indiscriminately,  and 
generally  with  notabilities.  Thus  she  lost  her  heart  to  each 
of  the  new  princes  and  princesses  who  married  into  the 
imperial  family.  Then  she  was  in  love  with  one  metro- 
politan, one  vicar,  and  one  priest.  Then  she  was  in  love 
with  one  journalist,  three  Slavophiles  and  Komisarof ;  then 
with  one  foreign  minister,  one  doctor,  one  English  mission- 
ary, and  finally  Karenin.  These  multifarious  love  affairs 
and  their  different  phases  of  warmth  or  coldness  in  nowise 
hindered  her  from  keeping  up  the  most  complicated  relations 
both  with  the  court  and  society.  But  from  the  day  when 
she  took  Karenin  under  her  special  protection,  from  the  time 
when  she  began  to  busy  herself  with  his  domestic  affairs  and 
work  for  his  salvation,  she  felt  that  all  her  former  passions 
were  of  no  account,  but  that  she  now  loved  Karenin  alone 
with  perfect  sincerity.  Besides,  as  she  analyzed  her  former 
sentiments  and  compared  them  with  those  that  she  now 
experienced,  she  clearly  saw  that  she  would  never  have 
loved  Komisarof  if  he  had  not  saved  the  Emperor's  life,  or 
Ristilsh-Kudzhitsky,  had  not  the  Slav  question  existed. 


516  ANNA    KARfiNINA 

But  Kar£nin  she  loved  for  himself,  for  his  great,  unap- 
preciated spirit,  for  his  character,  for  the  sound  of  his  voice, 
his  deliberate  speech,  his  weary  eyes,  and  his  soft  white 
hands  with  their  swollen  veins.  Not  only  did  the  thought  of 
seeing  him  fill  her  with  joy,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  saw 
on  her  friend's  face  the  expression  of  a  feeling  like  her  own. 
She  did  her  best  to  please  him,  no  less  by  her  person  than 
by  her  conversation.  Never  before  had  she  spent  so  much 
on  her  toilet.  More  than  once  she  found  herself  wondering 
what  would  happen  if  she  were  not  married  and  he  were 
only  free  !  When  he  came  in,  she  colored  with  pleasure  and 
she  could  not  restrain  a  smile  of  ecstasy  if  he  said  some- 
thing pleasant  to  her. 

For  several  days  the  countess  had  been  greatly  annoyed. 
She  knew  that  Yronsky  and  Anna  were  back  in  Petersburg. 
It  was  necessary  now  to  spare  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  the 
torture  of  seeing  his  wife.  How  could  she  free  him  from  the 
odious  thought  that  this  wretched  woman  was  living  in 
the  same  town  with  him  and  might  meet  him  at  any  instant? 

Lidia  Ivanovna  set  enquirers  on  foot  to  discover  the  plans 
of  these  repulsive  people,  as  she  called  Anna  and  Vronsky, 
and  she  tried  to  direct  all  of  Kare"nin's  movements  so  that 
he  might  not  meet  them.  The  young  adjutant,  a  friend  of 
Vronsky's,  from  whom  she  learned  about  them,  and  who  was 
hoping  through  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna's  influence  to 
get  a  position,  told  her  that  they  were  completing  their 
arrangements  and  expected  to  depart  on  the  following  day. 
Lidia  Ivanovna  was  beginning  to  breathe  freely  once  more, 
when  on  the  next  morning  she  received  a  note,  the  hand- 
writing of  which  she  recognized  with  terror.  It  was  from 
Anna  Kar£nina.  The  envelope  of  English  paper  thick  as 
bark,  on  the  oblong,  yellow  sheet  of  paper  adorned  with  an 
immense  monogram.  The  note  exhaled  a  delicious  perfume. 

"Who  brought  it?" 

"  The  Commissioner  from  the  hotel." 

The  countess  waited  long  before  she  had  the  courage  to 
sit  down  and  read  it.  Her  emotion  almost  brought  on  one 
of  her  attacks  of  asthma.  At  last,  when  she  felt  calmer, 
she  opened  the  following  note  written  in  French  :  — 

11  Madame  la  Comtesse: 

"The  Christian  sentiments  filling  your  heart  prompt  me, 
with  unpardonable  boldness,  I  fear,  to  address  you.  I  am 
unhappy  at  being  separated  from  my  son,  and  I  ask  you  to 


ANNA   KAREN1NA.  517 

do  me  the  favor  of  letting  me  see  him  once  more  before  I 
depart.  It'  I  do  not  make  direct  application  to  Aleksel 
Aleksandrovitch,  it  is  because  I  do  not  wish  to  give  this 
generous-hearted  man  the  pain  of  thinking  of  me.  Knowing 
your  friendship  for  him,  I  felt  that  you  would  understand 
me  ;  will  you  have  Serozha  sent  to  me  here  ?  or  do  you  prefer 
that  I  should  come  at  an  appointed  hour?  or  would  you  let 
me  know  bow  and  at  what  place  I  could  see  him?  You  can- 
not imagine  my  desire  to  see  my  child  again,  and  conse- 
quently you  cannot  comprehend  the  extent  of  my  grateful- 
ness for  the  assistance  that  you  can  render  me  in  these 
circumstances.  ANNA." 

Everything  about  this  note  exasperated  the  Countess  Lidia 
Ivanovna  ;  its  tenor,  the  allusions  to  Kar6niu's  magnanimity, 
and  the  especially  free  and  easy  tone  which  pervaded  it. 

"  Say  that  there  is  no  reply,"  and,  hurriedly  opening  her 
blotting-pad,  she  wrote  to  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch  that  she 
hoped  to  meet  him  about  one  o'clock  at  the  Palace  ;  it  was 
the  Emperor's  birthday,  and  the  Imperial  family  received 
congratulations. 

"  I  must  consult  with  you  in  regard  to  a  sad  and  serious 
affair ;  we  will  decide  at  the  Palace  when  I  can  see  }'ou. 
The  best  plan  would  be  at  my  house,  where  I  will  have  your 
tea  ready.  It  is  absolutely  necessary.  He  imposes  the 
cross,  but  He  gives  us  also  the  strength,"  she  added,  that 
his  mind  might  be  somewhat  prepared. 

The  countess  wrote  Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch  two  or  three 
times  a  day  ;  she  liked  this  way  of  keeping  up  her  relations 
with  him,  and  thought  it  both  elegant  and  mysterious,  while 
ordinary  ways  were  not  sufficient. 

XXIV. 

THE  congratulations  were  over.  As  they  went  away,  they 
talked  about  the  latest  news,  the  rewards  given  on  this  day, 
and  the  changed  positions  of  some  high  officials. 

'•  What  should  you  say  if  the  Countess  Mary  a  Borisovna 
was  made  minister  of  war,  and  the  Princess  Vatkovskai'a, 
chief  of  staff?"  asked  a  little,  gray-haired  old  man,  in  a 
gold-embroidered  uniform,  who  was  talking  with  a  tall,  hand- 
some maid  of  honor  about  the  recent  changes. 

"In  that  case,  I  should  be  made  adjutant,"  replied  the 
young  girl,  smiling. 


518  ANNA   KARtiNIXA. 

"You?  Your  place  is  already  settled.  You  are  to  have 
charge  of  the  department  of  religions,  aud  Kar6nin  is  to  be 
your  assistant." 

"How  do  you  do,  Prince?"  said  the  little  old  man, 
shaking  hands  with  some  one  who  came  along. 

"  Were  you  speaking  of  Kare"niu?"  asked  the  prince. 

"Yes;  he  and  Putiatof  have  been  decorated  with  the 
order  of  Alexander  Nevsky." 

"  I  thought  he  had  it  already.  " 

"  No  ;  look  at  him,"  said  the  little  old  man,  pointing  with 
his  gold-laced  hat  towards  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  who  was 
standing  in  the  doorway,  talking  with  one  of  the  influential 
members  of  the  Imperial  Council ;  he  wore  the  court  uniform, 
with  his  new  red  ribbon  across  his  shoulder.  "Happy  and 
contented  as  a  copper  kopek  !  isn't  he  ?  "  And  the  old  man 
stopped  to  press  the  hand  of  a  handsome,  athletic  chamber- 
lain passing  by. 

"  No  ;  he  has  grown  old,"  said  the  chamberlain. 

"  With  cares.  He  spends  his  life  in  writing  projects.  He 
has  buttonholed  his  unhappy  prey,  and  will  not  let  him 
go  until  he  has  explained  everything  point  by  point." 

"  What,  grown  old?"  II  fait  des  passions.  The  Coun- 
tess Lidia  ought  to  be  jealous  of  his  wife." 

"Nu!  1  beg  of  you  not  to  speak  ill  of  the  Countess 
Lidia." 

"  Is  there  any  harm  in  her  being  in  love  with  Kareniu?" 

"Is  Madame  Kar6nina  really  here?" 

"Not  here  at  the  Palace,  but  in  Petersburg.  I  met  her 
yesterday  with  Alekse'i  Vronsky  bras  dessus,  bras  dessous 
[arm  in  arm],  on  the  Morska'ia." 

"  C'est  un  homme  qui  n'a  pas"  —  began  the  chamberlain, 
in  French ;  but  he  broke  short  off  to  salute  and  make  way 
for  a  member  of  the  Imperial  family  who  was  passing. 

While  they  were  thus  criticising  and  ridiculing  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch,  the  latter  was  barring  the  way  of  the  Im- 
perial Counsellor,  and  without  pausing  to  take  breath,  lest  he 
should  lose  him,  was  giving  a  detailed  explanation  of  a 
financial  scheme. 

Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch.  about  the  time  that  his  wife  left 
him,  had  reached  a  situation  painful  for  an  official,  —  the 
culmination  of  his  upward  career.  Possibly  he  was  the  only 
one  who  did  not  see  that  his  career  was  ended.  Either  his 
collision  with  Stremof,  or  his  trouble  with  his  wife,  or  the 


519 

simple  fact  that  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch  had  reached  his 
limit,  the  fact  remained  that  every  one  saw  clearly  that  his 
official  race  was  run.  He  still  held  an  important  place :  he 
was  a  member  of  many  important  committees  and  councils  ; 
but  he  was  one  of  those  men  of  whom  nothing  more  is  ex- 
pected :  his  day  was  over.  All  that  he  said,  all  that  he  pro- 
posed, seemed  antiquated  and  vain.  But  Alekse'i  Aleksan- 
drovitch himself  did  not  realize  this,  but  felt  that  he  could 
appreciate  the  acts  of  the  government  more  fairly  since  he 
had  ceased  to  take  an  active  share  in  it,  and  thought  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  indicate  certain  reforms  which  should  be  in- 
troduced. Shortly  after  his  wife's  departure  he  began  to 
write  his  first  pamphlet  about  the  new  tribunals,  and  proposed 
to  follow  it  up  with  a  series  on  the  different  branches  of  the 
administration. 

He  not  only  did  not  realize  his  hopeless  situation  in  the 
official  world,  and  therefore  did  not  lose  heart,  but  he  took 
immense  delight  in  his  activity. 

"  He  that  is  unmarried  is  careful  for  the  things  of  the 
Lord,  how  he  may  please  the  Lord  ;  but  he  that  is  married 
is  careful  for  the  things  of  the  world,  how  he  may  please  his 
wife,"  said  the  Apostle  Paul.  And  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch, 
who  now  directed  his  life  in  all  respects  according  to  the 
Epistle,  often  quoted  this  text.  It  seemed  to  him,  now  that 
he  was  deprived  of  his  wife,  that  l)y  devotion  to  these  projects 
he  served  the  Lord  more  faithfull}*  than  ever. 

The  Imperial  Counsellor's  very  manifest  impatience  in  no 
way  abashed  Kare'nin,  but  he  stopped  a  moment  as  a  prince 
of  the  Imperial  family  was  passing,  and  his  victim  seized  his 
opportunity  to  escape. 

Left  to  himself,  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch  bowed  his  head, 
tried  to  collect  his  thoughts,  and,  with  an  absent-minded 
glance  about  him,  stepped  towards  the  door,  hoping  to  meet 
the  countess  there. 

"  How  strong  and  healthy  they  look!  "  he  said  to  himself, 
as  he  caught  sight  of  the  vigorous  neck  of  the  prince,  who 
wore  a  close-fitting  uniform,  and  the  handsome  chamberlain 
with  his  perfumed  side-whiskers.  "It  is  only  too  true  that 
all  is  evil  in  this  world,"  he  thought,  as  he  looked  at  the 
chamberlain's  sturdy  legs. 

ki  Ah  !  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch  !  "  cried  the  little  old  man, 
with  a  wicked  light  glowing  in  his  eyes,  as  Kare'nin  passed 
him  with  a  cold  bow.  t;  I  have  not  yet  congratulated  you," 
and  he  pointed  to  the  newly  received  ribbon. 


520  ANNA    KARtiNINA. 

"  I  thank  you.  This  is  afoie  day  !  "  replied  Alekse"i  Alek- 
sandrovitch, accentuating  the  adjective,  as  was  his  habit. 

He  knew  that  these  gentlemen  were  making  sport  of  him ; 
but,  as  he  expected  nothing  but  hostile  feelings,  he  was 
entirely  indifferent. 

The  countess's  yellow  shoulders  and  soft,  pensive  eyes  now 
became  visible  and  invited  him  from  afar ;  with  a  smile  that 
showed  his  even,  white  teeth,  he  went  to  join  her. 

Lidia  Ivanovna's  toilet  had  cost  her  much  labor,  like  all  her 
recent  efforts  in  this  direction  ;  for  she  was  pursuing  a  very 
different  aim  from  that  which  she  had  set  thirty  years  before. 
Formerly  she  had  thought  only  of  adorning  herself,  and  was 
never  too  elegant  for  her  taste  ;  now  she  sought  to  render  the 
contrast  endurable  between  her  person  and  her  toilet,  and  in 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's  eyes  she  succeeded :  he  thought 
her  charming.  This  woman's  sympath}7  and  tenderness  were 
for  him  a  sole  refuge  from  the  general  animosity  ;  from  the 
midst  of  this  throng  of  enemies  he  felt  drawn  to  her  like  a 
plant  towards  the  light. 

"  I  congratulate  you,"  she  said,  looking  at  his  decoration. 

Karenin  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  half  closed  his  eyes, 
as  if  to  say  that  this  was  nothing  to  him. 

The  countess  knew  that  these  distinctions,  even  though  he 
would  not  confess  it,  caused  him  the  keenest  pleasure. 

"  How  is  our  angel?  "  she  asked,  referring  to  Serozha. 

"I  cannot  say  that  I  am  very  well  satisfied  with  him," 
replied  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  lifting  his  e}-ebrows  and 
opening  his  eyes.  "  Sitnikof  does  not  please  him.  [Sitnikof 
was  Serozha's  tutor.]  As  I  told  you,  I  find  in  him  a  certain 
apathy  towards  the  essential  questions  which  ought  to  move 
the  soul  of  every  man  and  of  every  child."  And  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  began  to  discourse  on  a  subject  which,  next 
to  the  questions  of  administration,  gave  him  the  most  con- 
cern, —  his  son's  education. 

Never  till  the  present  time  had  educational  questions  inter- 
ested him  ;  but  having  been  called  upon  to  look  after  his  son's 
training,  he  spent  a  portion  of  his  time  in  studying  works  on 
anthropology,  pedagogy,  and  didactics,  and  he  conceived  a 
plan  of  stud}"  which  the  best  tutor  in  Petersburg  was  then 
entrusted  to  put  into  practice.  And  this  work  constantly 
occupied  him. 

"Yes;  but  his  heart?  I  find  in  this  child  his  father's 
heart,  and  with  that  he  cannot  be  bad,"  said  the  countess  with 
enthusiasm. 


ANNA    KARENINA.  521 

"  Da!  Possibly.  For  me,  I  perform  my  duty:  it  is  all 
that  I  can  do." 

••  Will  you  come  to  my  house?"  asked  the  countess  after 
a  moment's  silence.  "  I  have  a  very  painful  matter  to  talk 
with  you  about.  I  would  have  given  the  world  to  spare  you 
certain  memories  ;  others  do  not  think  the  same.  I  have 
had  a  letter  from  her.  She  is  in  Petersburg." 

Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch  quivered  at  the  recollection  of  his 
wife  ;  but  his  face  instantly  assumed  an  expression  of  mortal 
petrifaction  that  showed  how  absolutely  unable  he  was  to 
treat  of  such  a  subject. 

"  I  expected  it,"  he  said. 

The  countess  looked  at  him  with  exaltation,  and  in  the 
presence  of  a  soul  so  great,  tears  of  transport  sprang  to  her 
eyes. 

XXV. 

WHEN  Alekse"!  entered  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna's 
library,  decorated  with  portraits  and  old  porcelains,  he  failed 
to  find  his  friend. 

She  was  changing  her  dress. 

On  a  round  table  covered  with  a  cloth,  stood  a  Chinese  tea- 
service  and  a  silver  spirit-teapot.  Aleks6i  Aleksaudrovitch 
studied  the  numberless  paintings  that  adorned  the  room  ;  then 
he  sat  down  near  a  table  and  picked  up  the  New  Testament. 
The  rustling  of  a  silk  dress  put  his  thoughts  to  flight. 

"  Nu!  Vot!  Now  we  can  be  a  little  more  free  from  dis- 
turbance," said  the  countess- with  a  smile,  gliding  between 
the  table  and  the  divan.  "-We  can  talk  while  drinking  our 
tea." 

After  several  words,  meant  to  prepare  his  mind,  she  sighed 
deeply,  and  with  a  tinge  of  color  in  her  cheeks,  she  put 
Anna's  letter  into  his  hands. 

He  read  it,  and  sat  long  in  silence. 

"I  do  not  feel  that  I  have  the  right  to  refuse  her,"  he 
said  at  length,  raising  his  eyes  with  some  timidity. 

"  My  friend,  you  never  can  see  evil  anywhere." 

"On  the  contrary,  I  find  evil  everywhere.  But  would  it 
be  fair  to"  — 

His  face  expressed  indecision,  desire  for  advice,  for  sup- 
port, for  guidance  in  such  a  thorny  question. 

"No,"  interrupted  Lidia  Ivanovna,  "there  are  limits  to 
all  things.  I  understand  immorality,"  she  said,  not  with 


522  ANNA    KARtfNINA. 

absolute  sincerity,  since  she  did  not  know  why  women  could 
be  immoral,  "  but  what  1  do  not  undersUind  is  cruelty 
towards  any  one  !  Towards  you  !  How  can  she  remain  in 
the  same  city  with  you?  One  is  never  too  old  to  learn,  and 
I  learn  every  day  your  grandeur  and  her  baseness  ! " 

"•  Who  shall  cast  the  first  stone?"  asked  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch,  evidently  satisfied  with  the  part  that  he  was  acting. 
"  After  giving  her  everything,  can  I  deprive  her  of  what  is 
a  need  of  her  heart,  —  her  love  for  the  child?" 

"  But  is  it  love,  my  friend?  Is  it  all  sincere?  You  hove 
forgiven  her,  and  you  still  forgive  her ;  I  am  willing.  But 
have  you  the  right  to  vex  the  soul  of  this  little  angel  ?  He 
believes  that  she  is  dead  ;  he  prays  for  her  and  asks  God  to 
pardon  her  sins.  It  is  better  so.  What  would  he  think  now  ?" 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh, 
perceiving  the  justice  of  her  words. 

The  countess  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  was 
silent :  she  was  praying. 

"  Jf  you  ask  my  advice,"  she  replied  at  length,  "  you  will 
not  do  this.  Do  I  not  see  how  you  suffer,  how  your  wound 
bleeds?  Admit  that  you  make  a  mere  abstraction  of  your- 
self, but  where  will  it  lead  you?  You  are  laying  up  for 
yourself  new  sufferings,  and  an  unknown  trouble  for  the 
child !  If  she  were  still  capable  of  human  feelings,  she 
would  be  the  first  to  feel  it  herself.  No  !  I  have  no  hesita- 
tion about  it,  and  if  you  give  me  your  authority,  I  will  reply 
to  her." 

Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh  consented,  and  the  countess 
wrote,  in  French,  this  letter :  — 

"Madame,  —  Recalling  your  existence  to  your  son  would 
be  likely  to  raise  questions  which  it  would  be  impossible  to 
answer  without  obliging  the  child  to  judge  that  which  should 
remain  sacred  to  him.  You  would,  therefore,  easily  under- 
stand that  3"our  husband's  refusal  is  in  the  spirit  of  Christian 
charity.  I  pray  the  Omnipotent  to  be  merciful  to  you. 

"  COMPTESSE    LlDIA." 

This  letter  accomplished  the  secret  aim  which  the  countess 
would  not  confess  even  to  herself ;  it  wounded  Anna  to  the 
bottom  of  her  soul. 

Aleksei  Aleksandroviteh  went  home  disturbed,  and  unable 
to  take  up  his  ordinary  occupations,  or  recover  the  peace  of 
»  man  who  has  grace,  and  feels  that  he  is  among  the  elect. 


ANNA    KARENINA.  523 

The  thought  of  his  wife  so  guilty  towards  him,  and 
towards  whom  he  had  acted  like  a  saint,  to  use  the  countess's 
comparison,  ought  not  to  have  disturbed  him,  and  yet  he  was 
ill  at  ease.  He  could  not  understand  a  word  of  what  he  was 
reading,  or  succeed  in  driving  away  from  his  mind  the  cruel 
memories  of  the  past.  He  remembered  with  a  feeling  like 
remorse  Anna's  confession  the  day  of  the  races.  Why  had  he 
not  then  obliged  her  to  respect  the  proprieties  ?  Why  had  he 
not  challenged  Vronsky  to  a  duel  ?  This  was  what  troubled 
him  most  of  all.  And  his  letter  to  his  wife,  his  futile 
pardon,  his  pains  wasted  on  the  baby  that  was  not  his,  all 
came  back  to  his  memory,  and  overwhelmed  his  heart  with 
shame  and  confusion. 

"But  how  am  I  at  fault?"  he  asked  himself ;  and  this 
question  was  followed  by  another,  "Do  other  men  feel 
differently,  fall  in  love  differently,  and  marry  differently,  — 
these  Vronskvs,  Oblonskys,  these  chamberlains  with  their 
handsome  caloers  ? ' '  His  imagination  called  up  a  whole  line  of 
these  vigorous  minds,  self-confident  and  strong,  who  had 
always  attracted  his  curiosity  and  his  wonder. 

The  more  he  tried  to  drive  away  such  thoughts  as  these, 
and  to  remember  that  since  the  end  and  aim  of  his  life  was 
not  this  world,  peace  and  charity  alone  ought  to  dwell  in  his 
soul,  the  more  he  suffered,  as  though  eternal  salvation  was 
only  a  chimera. 

Fortunately  the  temptation  was  not  long,  and  soon 
Aleksei  Aleksaudrovitch  regained  that  serenity  and  eleva- 
tion of  mind,  by  which  he  succeeded  in  putting  away  all  that 
he  wished  to  forget. 

XXVI. 

"  Nu,  Kapitonnich  ?  "  said  Serozha,  as  he  came  in,  rosy 
and  gay,  after  his  walk,  on  the  evening  before  his  birthday, 
while  the  old  Swiss,  smiling  down  from  his  superior  height, 
helped  the  young  man  off  with  his  coat,  "did  the  bandaged 
tchinovnik  come  to-day?  Did  papa  see  him?" 

"Yes;  the  secretary  had  only  just  got  here  when  I 
announced  him,"  replied  the  Swiss,  winking  one  eye  gayly. 

"  Serozha  !  Serozha  ! "  called  the  Slavophile  tutor,  who  was 
standing  by  the  door  that  led  to  the  inner  rooms,  "  take  off 
your  coat  yourself." 

But  Serozha,  though  he  heard  his  tutor's  weak  voice,  paid 


524  AXXA   KARENIXA. 


no  heed  ;    standing  by  the  Swiss,  he  held  him  by  the  belt, 
and  gazed  at  him  with  all  his  eyes. 

"And  did  papa  do  what  he  wanted?" 

The  Swiss  nodded. 

This  tchinovnik,  with  his  head  in  a  bandage,  who  had  come 
seven  times  to  ask  some  favor  of  Aleks^i  Aleksandrovitch, 
interested  Serozha  and  the  Swiss.  Serozha  had  met  him 
one  day  in  the  vestibule,  and  listened,  as  he  begged  the  Swiss 
to  let  him  be  admitted,  saying  that  nothing  was  left  for  him 
and  his  children  but  to  die.  Since  that  time  the  lad  had 
felt  great  concern  for  the  poor  man. 

"  Say,  did  he  seem  very  glad?  "  asked  Serozha. 

"  Glad  as  he  could  be  ;  he  went  off  almost  leaping." 

"  Has  anything  come?"  asked  Serozha,  after  a  moment's 
silence. 

"•Yes,  yes,  sudar,"  said  the  Swiss,  lifting  his  head, 
"  there  is  something  from  the  countess." 

Serozha  understood  that  it  was  a  birthday  present  from 
the  countess. 

'  What  did  you  say  ?     Where  ?  " 

Korn6i  took  it  to  papa  ;  it  must  be  something  beautiful." 
'  How  big  ?  as  big  as  this  ?  " 
Smaller,  but  beautiful." 
A  little  book?" 

"No;  its  something.  Run  away,  run  awa}7.  Vasili 
Lukitch  is  calling  you,"  said  the  Swiss,  hearing  the  tutor's 
steps  approach,  and  gently  removing  the  little  gloved  hand 
which  held  his  belt. 

"In  a  little  bit  of  a  moment,  Vasili  Lukitch,"  said 
Serozha,  with  the  amiable  and  gracious  smile  to  whose 
influence  even  the  stern  tutor  submitted. 

Serozha  was  in  radiant  spirits,  and  wanted  to  tell  his 
friend,  the  Swiss,  about  a  piece  of  good  fortune,  which  the 
countess,  Lidia  Ivanovna's  niece,  had  told  him  while  they 
were  walking  in  the  summer  garden,  had  befallen  the  family. 
His  happiness  seemed  greater  still  since  he  heard  about  the 
tchinovnik's  success  and  his  present.  It  seemed  to  Serozha 
that  every  one  ought  to  be  happy  this  beautiful  day. 

"  Do  you  know  papa  has  received  the  Alexander  Nevsky 
order?" 

"Why  shouldn't  I  know?  He  has  been  receiving  con- 
gratulations." 

"Is  he  glad?" 


ANNA   KARENINA.  525 

"How  could  he  help  being  glad  of  the  Emperor's  favor? 
Is  it  a  proof  that  he  deserves  it?"  asked  the  old  Swiss, 
gravely. 

Serozha  reflected  as  he  looked  into  the  Swiss's  face,  which 
he  knew  even  to  the  least  detail,  but  especially  the  chin, 
between  his  gray  side-whiskers.  No  one  had  seen  his  chin 
except  Serozha,  who  looked  up  at  it  from  below. 

"  Nu!  and  your  daughter?  Isn'Mt  a  long  time  since  she 
has  been  to  see  us  ?  " 

The  Swiss's  daughter  was  a  ballet-dancer. 

' '  How  could  she  find  time  to  come  on  work-days  ? "  he 
exclaimed.  "They  have  their  lessons  as  well  as  you  yours, 
sudar." 

When  Serozha  reached  his  room,  instead  of  attending  to 
his  tasks,  he  poured  out  into  the  tutor's  ears  all  his  surmises 
about  the  present  which  had  been  brought  him.  "  It  must 
be  a  locomotive  engine;  what  do  you  think  about  it?"  he 
asked  ;  but  Vasili  Lukitch  was  thinking  of  nothing  except  the 
grammar  lesson,  which  had  to  be  ready  for  the  professor, 
who  came  at  two  o'clock. 

"  Tell  me  just  one  thing,  Vasili  Lukitch,"  asked  the  child, 
who  was  now  sitting  at  his  desk,  with  his  book  in  his  hands, 
"What  is  there  higher  than  the  Alexander  Nevsky?  You 
know  that  papa  is  decorated?" 

The  tutor  said  that  the  order  of  Vladimir  was  higher. 

"And  above  that?" 

"  St  Andrew  above  them  all." 

"  And  above  that?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"Why  don't  you  know?"  and  Serozha,  leaning  his  head 
on  his  hand,  began  to  think. 

The  child's  thoughts  were  very  varied ;  he  imagined  that 
his  father  perhaps  was  going  to  have  the  orders  of  Vladimir 
and  St.  Andrew,  and  that,  therefore,  he  would  be  more 
indulgent  for  his  day's  lessons.  Then  he  said  to  himself, 
that  when  he  grew  up,  he  would  do  his  best  to  deserve  all 
the  decorations,  even  those  that  would  be  given  higher  than 
that  of  St.  Andrew.  A  new  order  would  scarcely  have  time 
to  be  founded  before  he  would  make  himself  worthy  of  it. 
These  thoughts  made  the  time  pass  so  quick,  that  when  it 
was  the  hour  to  recite,  he  did  not  know  his  lesson  at  all ; 
and  the  professor  seemed  not  only  vexed,  but  pained. 
Serozha  was  rueful ;  his  lesson,  though  he  studied  it,  had 


526  ANNA    RARE  NINA. 

not  made  any  impression  on  his  mind.  When  the  professor 
was  present,  it  was  well ;  for  by  listening,  he  imagined  that 
he  understood ;  but  when  he  was  by  himself,  everything  was 
mixed  and  contused.  He  seized  a  moment  when  his  teacher 
was  looking  up  some  reference,  to  ask  him,  — 

"  Mikhai'l  Ivauovitch,  when  is  your  birthday?" 

"  You  would  do  better  to  think  about  your  work;  birth- 
days have  no  importance  for  a  reasonable  being.  It  is  only 
a  day  just  like  any  other,  and  must  be  spent  in  work." 

Serozha  looked  attentively  at  his  teacher,  studied  his 
sparse  beard,  his  eye-glasses  far  down  on  his  nose,  and  got 
into  such  a  deep  brown  study,  that  he  heard  nothing  of  the 
rest  of  the  lesson.  He  was  wondering  if  his  teacher  believed 
what  he  said.  By  the  tone  in  which  he  said  it,  he  felt  that 
it  was  incredible. 

"  But  why  do  they  all  try  to  say  to  me  the  most  tiresome 
things  and  the  most  useless  things,  and  all  in  the  same  way? 
Why  does  this  man  keep  me  from  him,  and  not  love  me  ?  " 
he  asked  himself,  and  he  could  not  tell. 

XXVII. 

AFTER  the  professor,  came  the  lesson  with  his  father. 
Serozha,  while  waiting  for  him,  played  with  his  penknife  as 
he  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  desk ;  and  he  fell  into  new 
thoughts. 

One  of  his  favorite  occupations  was  to  look  for  his  mother 
while  he  was  out  walking.  He  did  not  know  much  about 
death ;  and  he  did  not  believe  that  his  mother  was  dead, 
though  his  father  and  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  said  she 
was.  Every  tall,  graceful  woman  with  dark  hair  he  imagined 
to  be  his  mother;  at  the  sight  of  every  such  woman,  his 
heart  would  swell  with  love,  the  tears  would  come  into  his 
eyes,  and  he  would  wait  until  the  lady  drew  near  him,  and 
raised  her  veil ;  then  he  would  see  her  face  ;  she  would  kiss 
him,  smile  upon  him  ;  he  would  feel  the  sweet  caress  of  her 
hand,  smell  the  well-known  perfume,  and  weep  with  joy.  as 
he  did  one  evening  when  he  lay  at  her  feet,  and  she  tickled 
him,  because  she  and  he  laughed  so  heartily,  and  gently  bit 
her  white  hand,  covered  with  rings.  Later,  when  he  learned 
accidentally  from  the  old  nurse  that  his  mother  was  alive, 
but  his  father  and  the  countess  told  him  that  she  was  dead 
because  she  was  a  wicked  woman,  this  seemed  still  more 


ANXA    KAEtiNINA.  527 

impossible  to  Serozha,  because  he  loved  her ;  and  he  looked 
lor  her  and  longed  for  her.  This  very  day,  in  the  Summer 
garden,  he  had  seen  a  Inch'  in  a  lilac  veil,  and  his  heart  beat 
violently  when  he  saw  her  take  the  same  footpath  where  he 
was  walking ;  but  suddenly  she  vanished.  Serozha  felt  a 
stronger  love  than  ever  for  his  mother;  and  now,  while 
waiting  for  his  father,  he  was  cutting  his  desk  with  his  pen- 
knife ;  with  shining  eyes,  was  looking  straight  ahead,  and 
thinking  of  her. 

'•  Here  comes  your  papa,"  said  Vasili  Lukitch. 

Serozha  jumped  up  from  the  chair,  ran  to  kiss  his  father's 
hand,  and  looked  for  some  sign  of  pleasure  because  he  had 
received  the  decoration. 

"  Did  you  have  a  good  walk?"  asked  Alekse"!  Aleksandro- 
vitch,  as  he  sat  down  in  an  armchair,  and  opened  the  Old 
Testament. 

Though  he  had  often  told  Serozha  that  every  Christian 
ought  to  know  the  Old  Testament  history  by  heart,  he  had 
often  to  consult  it  for  his  lessons  ;  and  the  child  noticed  it. 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  enjoyed  it  very  much,"  said  Serozha, 
sitting  across  his  chair  and  tipping  it,  which  was  forbidden. 
"  I  saw  Xadenka  [Nadenka  was  the  countess's  niece,  whom 
she  adopted],  and  she  told  me  that  they've  given  you 
a  new  decoration.  Are  you  glad,  papa?" 

"In  the  first  place,  don't  tip  your  chair  so,  and  in  the 
second  place,  know  that  what  ought  to  be  dear  to  us  is  work 
for  itself  and  not  the  reward.  I  want  3~ou  to  understand 
that.  If  you  seek  only  the  recompense,  the  work  will  seem 
painful ;  but  if  you  love  work,  your  recompense  will  come  of 
itself."  And  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  remembered  that  on 
this  very  day  he  had  signed  one  hundred  and  eighteen 
different  papers  with  no  other  support  in  a  most  unwelcome 
task  than  the  feeling  of  duty. 

Serozha's  bright  and  shining  eyes  grew  gloomy  as  his 
father  looked  at  him. 

He  felt  that  his  father  in  speaking  to  him  put  on  a 
peculiar  tone  as  though  he  were  addressing  one  of  those 
imaginary  children  found  in  books,  and  whom  Serozha  did 
not  in  the  least  resemble.  He  was  used  to  it,  and  he  did  his 
best  to  find  wherein  he  had  anything  in  common  with  these 
exemplary  little  malcMlts. 

"You  understand  me,  I  hope." 

"Yes,  papa,"  replied  the  lad,  playing  the  part  of  this 
imaginary  little  personage. 


528  AyyA    KARgNINA. 


The  lesson  consisted  of  the  recitation  of  several  verses  of 
the  Gospel  and  the  review  of  the  first  part  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. The  lesson  went  fairly  well.  But  suddenly  Serozha 
was  struck  by  the  appearance  of  his  father's  forehead,  which 
made  almost  a  right  angle  near  the  temples,  and  he  gave  the 
end  of  the  verse  entirely  wrong.  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch 
concluded  that  he  did  not  understand  the  meaning  of  what 
he  was  reciting,  and  he  was  vexed. 

He  frowned,  and  began  to  explain  what  Serozha  could  not 
have  forgotten,  having  heard  it  so  many  times.  The  child, 
scared,  looked  at  his  father  and  thought  only  one  thing  : 
would  his  father  oblige  him  to  repeat  the  explanation  that 
he  had  given  him,  as  he  had  done  at  other  times?  This  fear 
kept  him  from  understanding.  Fortunately,  his  father 
passed  on  to  the  lesson  in  Sacred  History.  Serozha  rapidly 
narrated  the  facts  themselves  ;  but  when  it  came  to  the 
explanation  of  their  meaning,  he  did  not  know  it  at  all, 
though  it  was  part  of  his  lesson.  The  place  where  he  could 
not  recite  and  was  troubled,  where  he  whittled  the  table  and 
rocked  the  chair,  was  the  critical  moment  when  he  had  to  repeat 
the  list  of  antediluvian  patriarchs.  Not  one  could  he  remem- 
ber, not  even  Enoch,  who  went  to  heaven  alive,  though  Enoch 
was  his  favorite  character  in  Biblical  history,  and  he  con- 
nected with  the  translation  of  this  patriarch  a  long  string  of 
ideas  which  completely  absorbed  him  while  he  was  staring  at 
his  father's  watch-chain  and  a  loose  button  on  his  coat. 

Serozha  absolutely  disbelieved  in  death,  though  they  had 
told  him  about  it  many  times.  He  could  not  believe  that 
those  whom  he  loved  could  die,  and  especially  incredible 
was  the  thought  of  his  own  death.  It  all  seemed  incredible 
and  incomprehensible,  but  people  in  whom  he  had  confi- 
dence told  him  that  everybody  must  die.  The  nurse  her- 
self, though  unwillingly,  said  the  same  thing.  But  Enoch 
did  not  die,  and  perhaps  others  might  not  have  to  die. 

"  Why  did  not  others  deserve  as  much  as  he  to  go  up  to 
heaven  alive,"  asked  Serozha.  The  wicked,  those  whom 
he  disliked,  might  have  to  die,  but  the  good  might  be  like 
Enoch. 

"  Nti!  how  about  these  patriarchs?" 

u  Enoch  —  Enos"  — 

"  You  have  already  mentioned  him.  This  is  bad,  Ser- 
ozha, very  bad.  If  you  do  not  endeavor  to  learn  the  things 
essential  for  a  Christian  to  know,  what  will  become  of  you?" 


ANNA    KARtfNINA.  529 

asked  his  father,  getting  up.  "  I  am  dissatisfied  with 
you,  and  Piotr  Ignatitch  is  dissatisfied  with  you,  so  I  am 
compelled  to  punish  you." 

Father  and  pedagogue  both  found  fault  with  him,  and  Se- 
rozha  was  doubtless  making  bad  work  of  it,  and  yet  he  was 
not  a  stupid  boy  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  far  superior  to 
those  whom  his  teacher  held  up  to  him  as  examples.  If  he 
did  not  want  to  learn  what  was  taught  him,  it  was  because 
he  could  not,  and  for  the  reason  that  his  mind  had  needs 
very  different  from  those  that  his  teachers  imagined.  He 
was  only  nine  years  old.  He  was  only  a  child  ;  but  he  knew 
his  soul,  and  he  objected  to  any  one  trying  to  force  a  way  in 
without  the  key  of  love.  He  was  blamed  for  being  unwill- 
ing to  learn,  and  yet  he  was  all  on  fire  with  the  yearning  for 
knowledge  ;  but  he  got  his  lessons  from  Kapitonuitch,  his  old 
nurse,  Nadenka,  and  Vasili  Lukitch.  The  water  which  the 
father  and  the  pedagogue  poured  on  the  mill-wheel  was 
wasted,  but  the  work  was  done  in  another  place. 

Serozha  was  accordingly  punished.  He  was  refused  per- 
mission to  go  to  see  Nadenka ;  but  his  punishment  turned 
out  to  be  an  advantage.  Vasili  Lukitch  was  in  good  humor, 
and  taught  him  the  art  of  making  a  little  wind-mill.  The 
afternoon  was  spent  in  working  and  thinking  of  the  ways 
and  means  to  make  the  mill  go.  Should  he  fasten  wings  to 
it,  or  fix  it  so  he  could  turn  it  himself?  He  forgot  about  his 
mother  all  the  evening  ;  but  after  he  had  got  into  bed,  her 
memory  suddenly  came  back  to  him,  and  he  prayed  in  his 
own  words  that  she  might  cease  to  veil  herself,  and  make  him 
a  visit  the  next  day,  which  was  his  birthday. 

"Vasili  Lukitch,  do  you  know  what  I  prayed  God  for?" 

"To  study  better?" 

"  No." 

"Toys?" 

"No.  You  must  not  guess.  It  is  a  secret;  when  it 
comes  to  pass,  I  will  tell  vou.  Are  you  sure  you  don't 
know  ?  " 

'•No;  you  must  tell  me  !"  said  Vasili  Lukitch,  smiling, 
which  was  rare  with  him.  "  Nu!  get  into  bed  ;  I  am  going 
to  put  out  the  light." 

"  I  see  much  better  what  I  asked  in  my  prayer  when  there 
isn't  any  light.  There,  I  almost  told  my  secret ! "  cried 
Serozha,  laughing  gaylv. 

Serozha  believed  that  he  heard  his  mother  and  felt  her 


530  AXXA    KARtiNINA 


presence  when  he  was  in  the  dark.  She  was  standing  near 
him,  and  looking  at  him  tenderly  with  her  loving  face  ;  then 
he  saw  a  mill,  a  knife  ;  then  all  melted  into  darkness,  and  he 
was  asleep. 

XXVIII. 

WHEN  Vronsky  and  Anna  reached  Petersburg,  they  stopped 
at  one  of  the  best  hotels.  Vronsky  had  a  room  on  the 
ground  floor  ;  Anna,  up  one  flight  of  stairs,  with  her  baby, 
the  nurse,  and  her  maid,  occupied  a  suite  of  four  rooms. 

On  the  day  of  his  return,  Vronsky  went  to  see  his  brother  ; 
he  found  his  mother  there,  who  had  come  down  from  Moscow 
on  business.  His  mother  and  sister-in-law  received  him  as 
usual,  asked  him  about  his  travels,  spoke  of  common  friends, 
but  they  made  no  allusion  to  Anna.  His  brother,  who 
returned  his  call  the  next  morning,  asked  him  about  her  and 
Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch.  Vronsky  explained  to  him  that  he 
considered  the  bond  which  united  him  to  Madame  Kare'nina 
the  same  as  marriage,  that  he  hoped  to  obtain  a  divorce, 
and  then  he  should  marry  her,  which  would  regulate  their 
situation  ;  he  wanted  his  mother  and  sister-in-law  to  under- 
stand his  intentions. 

"  The  world  may  not  approve  of  me  ;  that  is  all  one  to 
me  ;  "  he  added,  "  but  if  my  family  wish  to  remain  on  good 
terms  with  me,  they  must  show  proper  respect  for  my  wife." 

The  elder  brother,  always  very  respectful  of  his  brother's 
opinions,  allowed  the  world  to  settle  this  delicate  question, 
and  without  hesitation  went  with  Alekse"i  to  call  upon  Mad- 
ame Kare'nina.  Vronsky  spoke  to  Anna  with  the  formal  vui 
(you)  ,  as  he  always  did  before  strangers,  and  treated  her  as 
a  mere  acquaintance  ;  but  it  was  perfectly  understood  what 
her  relations  to  him  were,  and  they  spoke  freely  of  Anna's 
visit  to  the  Vronsky  estate. 

In  spite  of  his  knowledge  of  society,  Vronsky  fell  into  a 
strange  error  ;  he  who  better  than  any  one  else  ought  to  have 
understood  that  society  would  shut  its  doors  upon  them,  per- 
suaded himself  by  a  strange  freak  of  imagination  that  public 
opinion,  having  progressed  beyond  its  ancient  prejudices, 
must  have  yielded  to  the  influence  of  civilization.  "Of 
course,  we  can't  count  on  being  received  at  court,"  he 
thought;  "but  our  relatives,  our  friends,  will  understand 
things  as  they  are." 


ANNA    KARtfNINA.  531 

A  man  may  sit  for  some  time  with  his  legs  doubled  up  in 
one  and  the  same  position,  provided  he  knows  that  he  can 
change  ;  but  if  he  knows  that  he  must  sit  in  such  a  con- 
strained position,  then  his  legs  get  cramps,  he  will  feel  drawn 
to  get  away.  Vronsky  experienced  this  in  regard  to  society. 
Though  he  knew  in  the  bottom  of  his  soul  that  society  was 
shut  to  them,  he  tried  to  force  its  door.  But  he  quickly 
found  that  even  if  it  were  open  to  him,  it  was  shut  to  Anna. 

One  of  the  first  ladies  of  Petersburg  society  whom  he  met 
was  his  cousin  Betsy.  "  At  last?"  she  cried  joyously,  "  and 
Anna?  How  glad  I  am!  Where  are  you  stopping?  I  can 
easily  imagine  the  hideous  effect  that  Petersburg  must  have 
upon  you  after  such  a  journey  !  I  can  imagine  your  honey- 
moon in  Rome  !  And  the  divorce?  is  it  arranged?" 

Vronsky  saw  that  Betsy's  enthusiasm  cooled  when  she 
learned  that  the  divorce  was  not  yet  forthcoming. 

"  I  know  well  that  I  shall  be  stoned,"  said  she ;  "  but  I  am 
coming  to  see  Anna.  You  won't  stay  long,  I  imagine  ?  " 

She  came,  in  fact,  on  that  very  day  ;  but  her  manner  was 
entire!}"  different  from  what  it  used  to  be.  She  seemed  to 
make  much  of  her  courage,  and  insisted  that  it  was  a  proof 
of  her  fidelity  and  friendship  towards  Anna.  After  talking 
for  about  ten  minutes  on  the  news  of  the  day,  she  got  up, 
and  said  as  she  went  away,  "You  have  not  told  me  yet 
when  the  divorce  is  to  be.  Grant  that  I  throw  my  bonnet 
over  the  mill,  but  I  guess  few  will  do  as  much,  and  you  will 
find  that  others  will  turn  the  cold  shoulder  so  long  as  you  are 
not  married,  and  it  is  so  easy  now-a-days,  qa  se  fait.  So 
you  are  going  Friday  ?  I  am  sorry  that  I  shall  not  be  able 
to  see  you  again." 

Betsy's  manner  might  have  warned  Vronsky  what  sort  of  a 
reception  society  was  waiting  to  show  them.  He  knew  well 
that  his  mother,  though  so  enthusiastic  in  Anna's  praise  at 
their  first  meeting,  would  be  relentless  toward  her  now  that 
she  had  spoiled  her  son's  career ;  but  Vronsky  founded  the 
loftiest  hopes  on  Varia,  his  sister-in-law ;  she  certainly 
would  not  be  the  first  to  cast  a  stone  at  Anna,  but  would 
come  simply  and  naturally  to  see  her. 

On  the  next  day,  finding  her  alone,  he  opened  the  subject. 

"  You  know,  Aleksei,  how  fond  I  am  of  you,"  replied 
Varia,  after  hearing  what  he  had  to  say,  "  and  how  devoted 
I  am  to  you  and  willing  I  am  to  do  anything  for  you ;  but  if 
I  kept  silent,  it  is  because  I  know  that  I  cannot  be  of  the 


532  ANNA    KARENINA. 

least  use  to  you  and  Anna  Arkadyevna.  [She  accented  the 
two  names.]  Don't  for  a  moment  think  that  I  allow  myself 
to  judge  her  —  not  at  all ;  perhaps  1  should  have  done  the 
same  thing  in  her  place.  I  cannot  enter  into  details,"  she 
added  timidly,  as  she  saw  her  brother-in-law's  face  darken  ; 
"but  we  must  call  things  by  their  right  name.  You  would 
like  me  to  go  and  see  her,  and  then  have  her  visit  me,  in 
order  to  restore  her  to  society.  But  I  cannot  do  it.  My 
daughters  are  growing  up ;  I  am  obliged,  on  my  husband's 
account,  to  go  into  society.  Nu!  I  will  go  to  call  on  Anna 
Arkadyevna  ;  but  she  knows  that  I  cannot  invite  her  here  lest 
she  should  meet  in  my  drawing-room  people  who  do  not  think 
as  I  do,  and  that  would  wound  her.  I  cannot  receive  her." 

"  But  I  do  not  for  an  instant  admit  that  she  is  a  fallen 
woman,  and  I  would  not  compare  her  to  hundreds  of  women 
whom  3rou  receive,"  interrupted  Vronsky,  rising,  and  seeing 
that  his  sister-in-law  was  not  going  to  yield. 

"  Aleksei,  don't  be  angry  with  me;  it  is  not  my  fault," 
said  Varia,  with  a  timid  sinile. 

"  I  am  not  angry  with  you,  but  I  suffer  doubly,"  said  he, 
growing  more  and  more  gloomy.  "I  suffer  because  this 
breaks  our  friendship,  or,  at  least,  it  wounds  it ;  for  you 
must  know  that  such  will  be  for  us  the  inevitable  result." 

He  left  her  with  these  words.  He  perceived  the  uselessness 
of  new  endeavors ;  and,  as  he  still  had  to  spend  a  few  days 
in  Petersburg,  he  resolved  to  act  as  though  he  were  in  a 
foreign  city,  and  to  avoid  all  occasion  for  new  vexations. 

One  of  the  most  painful  circumstances  that  met  him  was 
to  hear  his  name  eve^where  associated  with  that  of  Aleks£i 
Aleksandrovitch.  Every  conversation  brought  up  the  affair  ; 
and  if  he  went  out,  he  was  sure  to  meet  him,  just  as  a  person 
with  a  sore  finger  is  always  hitting  it  against  the  furniture. 

On  the  other  side,  Anna's  behavior  vexed  him.  He  saw  that 
she  was  in  a  strange,  incomprehensible  moral  frame  of  mind 
which  he  had  never  seen  before.  Now  tender,  now  cold,  she 
was  always  irritable  and  enigmatical.  Evidently  something 
tormented  her ;  but,  instead  of  being  sensitive  to  the  indig- 
nities which  Vronsky  suffered  so  keenly,  and  which  in  her 
ordinary  delicacy  of  perception  she  would  have  suffered  also, 
she  seemed  occupied  solely  in  hiding  her  pain,  and  perfectly 
indifferent  to  the  rest. 


ANNA    KARtfNINA.  533 


XXIX. 

ANNA'S  chief  desire  on  her  return  to  Russia  was  to  see  her 
son.  From  the  day  that  she  left  Italy  she  was  filled  with 
this  idea ;  and  her  joy  increased  in  proportion  as  she  drew 
near  Petersburg.  She  did  not  trouble  herself  with  the  ques- 
tion how  she  should  manage  this  meeting  which  seemed  to  her 
of  such  importance.  It  was  a  simple  and  natural  thing,  she 
thought,  to  see  her  child  once  more,  now  that  she  was  in  the 
same  town  with  him  ;  but  since  her  arrival  she  suddenly  real- 
ized her  present  relation  towards  society,  and  found  that  the 
interview  was  not  easy  to  obtain. 

She  had  been  two  days  now  in  Petersburg,  and  never  for 
an  instant  had  she  forgotten  her  son,  but  she  had  not  seen 
him. 

To  go  straight  to  her  husband's  house  and  risk  coming  face 
to  face  with  her  husband,  seemed  to  her  impossible.  They 
might  even  refuse  to  admit  her.  To  write  to  Aleks^i  Alek- 
saudrovitcli  and  ask  permission  of  him,  seemed  to  her  pain- 
ful even  to  think  of.  She  could  be  calm  only  when  she  did 
not  think  of  her  husband  ;  and  yet  she  could  not  feel  con- 
tented to  see  her  son  at  a  distance. 

She  had  too  many  kisses,  too  many  caresses,  to  give  him. 
Serozha's  old  nurse  might  have  been  an  assistance  to  her, 
but  she  no  longer  lived  with  Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch. 

On  the  third  da}-,  having  learned  of  Aleks6i  Aleksandro- 
vitch's  relations  with  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna,  Anna 
decided  to  write  her  a  letter  composed  with  the  greatest  care, 
in  which  she  would  tell  her  frankly  that  the  permission  to  see 
her  son  depended  on  her.  She  knew  that  if  her  husband 
found  it  out,  he,  in  his  part  of  magnanimous  man,  would  not 
refuse  her. 

It  was  a  cruel  blow  to  have  her  messenger  return  without  an 
answer.  She  had  never  felt  so  wounded,  so  humiliated  ;  and 
yet  she  had  to  acknowledge  that  the  countess  was  right.  Her 
grief  was  all  the  keener  because  she  had  to  bear  it  alone. 
She  could  not  and  did  not  wish  to  confide  it  to  Vronsky.  She 
knew  that  though  he  was  the  chief  cause  of  her  unhappiness, 
he  would  look  upon  her  meeting  with  her  son  as  of  little 
account ;  and  the  mere  thought  of  the  unsympathetic  tone  in 
which  he  would  speak  of  it,  made  him  seem  odious  to  her. 
And  the  fear  that  she  might  come  to  hate  him  was  the  worst 


534  AXSiA    KAEtiNINA. 


of  all.  Therefore  she  made  up  her  mind  to  hide  from  him 
her  action  in  regard  to  the  child. 

She  stayed  at  home  all  day  long  and  racked  her  brain  to 
think  of  other  ways  of  meeting  her  son,  and  finally  she  de- 
cided upon  the  most  painful  of  all,  —  to  write  directly  to  her 
husband.  Just  as  she  was  beginning  her  letter,  Lidia  Ivan- 
ovna's  reply  was  brought.  She  accepted  it  with  silent  resig- 
nation ;  but  the  unfriendliness,  the  sarcasm,  that  she  read 
between  the  lines,  pierced  deep  into  her  soul. 

"  What  cruelty!  What  hypocrisy!"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  They  want  to  insult  me  and  torment  the  child.  I  will  not 
let  them  do  so.  She  is  worse  than  1  am  ;  at  least,  I  do  not 
lie." 

She  immediately  decided  to  go  on  the  morrow,  which  was 
Serozha's  birthday,  directly  to  her  husband's  house  to  see 
the  child,  no  matter  what  it  cost  in  fees  to  the  servants,  and 
to  put  an  end  to  the  ugly  network  of  lies  with  which  they 
were  surrounding  the  innocent  child. 

She  went  to  a  neighboring  shop  and  purchased  some  toys, 
and  thus  she  formed  her  plan  of  action  :  she  would  start  early 
in  the  morning  before  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  was  up  ;  she 
would  have  the  money  in  her  hand  all  read}'  to  bribe  the 
Swiss  and  the  other  servants  to  let  her  go  up  stairs  without 
raising  her  veil,  under  the  pretext  of  laying  on  Serozha's  bed 
some  presents  sent  by  his  god-  father.  As  to  what  she  should 
say  to  her  son,  she  could  not  form  the  least  idea  ;  she  could 
not  make  an\-  preparation  for  that. 

The  next  morning,  at  eight  o'clock,  Anna  got  out  of  her 
hired  carriage  and  rang  the  door-bell  of  her  former  home.' 

"  Go  and  see  what  is  wanted!  It's  some  baruina,"  said 
Kapitonuitch,  in  overcoat  and  galoshes,  as  he  looked  out  of  the 
window  and  saw  a  lady  closely  veiled  standing  on  the  porch. 
The  Swiss's  assistant,  a  young  man  whom  Anna  did  not 
know,  had  scarcely  opened  the  door  before  Anna  thrust  a 
three-ruble  note  into  his  hand. 

"  Serozha  —  Sergei  Aleksievitch,"  she  stammered;  then 
she  went  one  or  two  steps  down  the  hall. 

The  Swiss's  assistant  examined  the  note,  and  stopped  the 
visitor  at  the  inner  glass  door. 

"  Whom  do  you  wish  to  see?"  he  asked. 

She  did  not  hear  his  words,  and  made  no  reply. 

Kapitonuitch.  noticing  the  stranger's  confusion,  came  out 
from  his  office  and  asked  her  what  she  wanted. 


ANXA    KAMSXIXA.  535 

"  I  come  from  Prince  Skorodumof  to  see  Serge" i  Aleksie"- 
vitch." 

"  He  is  not  up  yet,"  replied  the  Swiss,  looking  sharply  at 
the  veiled  lady. 

Anua  had  never  dreamed  that  she  should  be  so  troubled  by 
the  sight  of  this  house  where  she  had  lived  nine  3*ears.  One 
after  another,  sweet  and  cruel  memories  arose  in  her  mind, 
and  for  a  moment  she  forgot  why  she  was  there. 

"Will  you  wait?"  asked  the  Swiss,  helping  her  to  take 
off  her  shubka.  When  he  saw  her  face,  he  recognized  her, 
and  bowed  profoundly.  "  Will  3  our  ladyship1  be  pleased  to 
enter?"  he  said  to  her. 

She  tried  to  speak ;  but  her  voice  failed  her,  and  with  an 
entreating  look  at  the  old  servant  she  rapidly  flew  up  the 
stairs.  Kapitonuitch  tried  to  overtake  her,  and  followed 
after  her,  catching  his  galoshes  at  every  step. 

"  Perhaps  his  tutor  is  not  dressed  yet ;  I  will  speak  to 
him." 

Anna  kept  on  up  the  stairs  which  she  knew  so  well,  but  she 
did  not  hear  what  the  old  man  said. 

kk  This  way.  Excuse  it  if  all  is  in  disorder.  He  sleeps  in 
the  front  room  now,"  said  the  Swiss,  out  of  breath.  "  Will 
your  ladyship  be  good  enough  to  wait  a  moment?  I  will  go 
and  see."  And  opening  the  high  door,  he  disappeared. 

Anna  stopped  and  waited. 

u  He  has  just  waked  up,"  said  the  Swiss,  coming  back 
through  the  same  door. 

And  as  he  spoke,  Anna  heard  the  sound  of  a  child  yawn- 
ing,  and  merely  by  the  sound  of  the  yawn  she  recognized  her 
son  and  seemed  to  see  him  alive  before  her. 

"  Let  me  go  in  —  let  me  !  "  she  stammered,  and  hurriedly 
pushed  through  the  door. 

At  the  right  of  the  door  was  a  bed,  and  on  the  bed  a  child 
was  sitting  up  in  his  little  open  nightgown ;  his  little  body 
was  leaning  forward,  and  he  was  just  finishing  a  yawn  and 
stretching  himself.  His  lips  were  just  closing  into  a  sleepy 
smile,  and  he  fell  back  upon  his  pillow  still  smiling. 

'"  Serozha !  "  she  murmured  as  she  went  towards  him. 

Every  time  since  their  separation  that  she  had  felt  an 
access  of  love  for  the  absent  son,  Anna  looked  upon  him  as 
still  a  child  of  four,  the  age  when  he  had  been  most  charm- 
ing. Now  he  no  longer  bore  any  resemblance  to  him  whom 

1  Vasha  prevoskhodttelstvo,  literally,  Your  Excellency. 


536  ANNA    KAR&NINA. 

she  had  left :  he  had  grown  tall  and  thin.  How  long  his  face 
seemed  !  How  short  his  hair  !  What  long  arms  !  How  he 
had  changed!  But  it  was  still  the  same,  —  the  shape  of  his 
head,  his  lips,  little  slender  neck,  and  his  broad  shoulders. 

"  Serozha !  "  she  whispered  in  the  child's  ear. 

He  raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  turned  his  frowzy  head 
around,  and  trying  to  put  things  together,  opened  wide  his 
C3'es.  For  several  seconds  he  looked  with  an  inquiring  face 
at  his  mother,  who  stood  motionless  before  him.  Then  he 
suddenly  smiled  with  joy,  and  with  his  eyes  still  half-closed 
in  sleep,  he  threw  himself,  not  back  upon  his  pillow,  but  into 
his  mother's  arms. 

"Serozha,  my  dear  little  bo}T !  "  she  stammered,  choking 
with  tears,  and  throwing  her  arms  around  his  plump  body. 

"  Mamma  !  "  he  whispered,  cuddling  into  his  mother's  arms 
so  as  to  feel  their  encircling  pressure.  Smiling  sleepily,  he 
took  his  hand  from  the  head  of  the  bed  and  put  it  on  his 
mother's  shoulder  and  climbed  into  her  lap,  having  that  warm 
breath  of  sleep  peculiar  to  children,  and  pressed  his  face  to 
his  mother's  neck  and  shoulders. 

"I  knew,"  he  said,  opening  his  eyes;  "to-day  is  my 
birthday  ;  I  knew  that  you  would  come.  I  am  going  to  get 
up  now." 

And  as  he  spoke  he  fell  asleep  again.  Anna  devoured  him 
with  her  e3~es.  She  saw  how  he  had  changed  during  her 
absence.  She  would  scarcely  have  known  his  long  legs  com- 
ing below  his  nightgown,  his  hollow  cheeks,  his  short  hair 
curled  in  the  neck  where  she  had  so  often  kissed  it.  She 
pressed  him  to  her  heart,  and  the  tears  prevented  her  from 
speaking. 

"  What  are  you  crying  for,  mamma?"  he  asked,  now  en- 
tirely awake.  "What  makes  you  cry?"  he  repeated,  read}' 
to  weep  himself. 

"I?  I  will  not  cry  any  more  —  it  is  for  joy.  It  is  all 
over  now,"  said  see,  drying  her  tears  and  turning  around. 
'•  Nu!  go  and  get  dressed,"  she  added,  after  she  had  grown 
a  little  calmer,  but  still  holding  Serozha's  hand.  She  sat 
down  near  the  bed  on  a  chair  which  held  the  child's  clothing. 
"How  do  you  dress  without  me?  How"  -  she  wanted 
to  speak  simply  and  gayly,  but  she  could  not,  and  again  she 
turned  her  head  away. 

"  I  don't  wash  in  cold  water  any  more  ;  papa  has  forbidden 
it :  but  YOU  have  not  seen  Vasili  Lukitch  ?  Here  he  comes. 


ANNA    KAREN1NA.  537 

But  you  are  sitting  on  my  things."  And  Serozha  laughed 
heartily.  She  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"Mamma!  diishenka,  golubtcltika ! "  [dear  little  soul,  dar- 
ling'], he  cried  again,  throwing  himself  into  her  arms,  as 
though  he  now  better  understood  what  had  happened  to  him, 
as  he  saw  her  smile. 

"  Take  it  off,"  said  he,  pulling  off  her  hat.  And  seeing 
her  head  bare,  he  began  to  kiss  her  again. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  me?  Did  you  believe  that  I  was 
dead?" 

"  I  never  believed  it." 

"  You  believed  me  alive,  my  precious?" 

"  I  knew  it!  I  knew  it!  "  he  replied,  repeating  his  favor- 
ite phrase  ;  and  seizing  the  hand  which  was  smoothing  his 
hair,  he  pressed  the  palm  of  it  to  his  little  mouth,  and  be- 
gan to  kiss  it. 

XXX. 

VASILI  LUKITCH,  meantime,  not  at  first  knowing  who  this 
lady  was,  but  learning  from  their  conversation  that  it  was 
Serozha's  mother,  the  woman  who  had  deserted  her  husband, 
and  whom  he  did  not  know,  as  he  had  not  come  into  the 
house  till  after  her  departure,  was  in  great  perplexity.  Ought 
he  to  tell  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch?  On  mature  reflection 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  his  duty  consisted  in  going  to 
dress  Serozha  at  the  usual  hour,  without  paying  any  atten- 
tion to  a  third  person  —  his  mother,  or  any  one  else.  But 
as  he  reached  the  door  and  opened  it,  the  sight  of  the 
caresses  between  the  mother  and  child,  the  sound  of  their 
voices  and  their  words,  made  him  change  his  mind.  He 
shook  his  head,  sighed,  and  quietly  closed  the  door.  "I 
will  wait  ten  minutes  longer,"  he  said  to  himself,  coughing 
slightly,  and  wiping  his  eyes. 

There  was  great  excitement  among  the  servants  ;  they  all 
knew  that  the  baruina  had  come,  and  that  Kapitonuitch  had 
let  her  in.  and  that  she  was  in  the  child's  room  ;  the}"  knew, 
too,  that  their  master  was  in  the  habit  of  going  to  Serozha 
every  morning  at  nine  o'clock  :  each  one  felt  that  the  hus- 
band and  wife  ought  not  to  meet,  that  it  must  be  prevented. 

Kornei,  the  valet,  went  down  to  the  Swiss  to  ask  why 
Anna  had  been  let  in  ;  and  finding  that  Kapitonuitch  had 
taken  her  upstairs,  he  reprimanded  him  severely.  The  Swiss 


538  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

maintained  an  obstinate  silence  till  the  valet  declared  that 
he  deserved  to  lose  his  place,  when  the  old  man  jumped  at 
him,  and  shaking  his  fist  in  his  face,  said, — 

"Da/  Vot,  you  would  not  have  let  her  in  yourself? 
You've  served  here  ten  years,  and  had  nothing  but  kind- 
ness from  her,  but  you  would  have  said,  '  Now,  go  away 
from  here  ! '  You  know  what  policy  is,  you  sly  dog.  What 
you  don't  forget  is  to  rob  your  master,  and  to  carry  off  his 
raccoon-skin  shubas  !  " 

"  Soldier ! "  replied  KorneM,  scornfull}*,  and  he  turned 
towards  the  nurse,  who  was  coming  in  just  at  this  moment. 
"  What  do  you  think,  Marya  Yefimovna?  He  has  let  in  Anna 
Arkadyevna,  without  saying  anything  to  anybody,  and  just 
when  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  as  soon  as  he  is  up,  will  be 
going  to  the  nursery." 

"  What  a  scrape  !  what  a  scrape  ! "  said  the  nurse.  "  But, 
Korne"i  Vasilyevitch,  find  some  way  to  keep  your  master, 
while  I  run  to  warn  her,  and  get  her  out  of  the  way.  What 
a  scraps  !  " 

WThen  the  nurse  went  into  the  child's  room,  Serozha  was 
telling  his  mother  how  Nddenka  and  he  had  fallen  when 
sliding  down  a  hill  of  ice,  and  turned  three  somersaults. 
Anna  was  listening  to  the  sound  of  her  son's  voice,  looking 
at  his  face,  watching  the  play  of  his  features,  feeling  his 
little  arms,  but  not  hearing  a  word  that  he  said.  She  must 
go  away,  she  must  leave  him ;  this  alone  she  understood  and 
felt.  She  had  heard  Vasili  Lukitch's  steps,  and  his  little 
discreet  cough,  as  he  came  to  the  door,  and  now  she  heard 
the  nurse  coming  in  ;  but  unable  to  move  or  to  speak,  she 
remained  as  fixed  as  a  statue. 

"  Baruina!  Golubtcliika ! "  [mistress,  darling],  said  the 
nurse,  coming  up  to  Anna,  and  kissing  her  hands  and  her 
shoulders.  "  God  sent  this  joy  for  our  birthday  celebra- 
tion !  You  are  not  changed  at  all." 

"  Ach!  nurse  [iiyanya],  my  dear;  I  did  not  know  that 
3'ou  were  in  the  house,"  said  Anna,  coming  to  herself. 

"  I  don't  live  here  ;  I  live  with  my  daughter.  I  came  to 
give  my  best  wishes  to  Serozha,  Anna  Arkadyevna,  golub- 
tchika." 

The  nurse  suddenly  began  to  weep,  and  to  kiss  Anna's 
hand. 

Serozha,  with  bright,  joyful  eyes,  and  holding  his  mother 
with  one  hand  and  his  nurse  with  the  other,  was  dancing  in 


KARENINA.  539 

his  little,  bare  feet  on  the  carpet.  His  old  nurse's  tender- 
ness towards  his  mother  was  delightful  to  him. 

••  Mr.mma,  she  often  comes  to  see  me;  and  when  she 
comes" —  he  began,  but  he  stopped  short  when  he  perceived 
that  the  nurse  whispered  something  in  his  mother's  ear,  and 
that  his  mother's  face  assumed  an  expression  of  fear,  and  at 
the  same  time,  of  shame. 

Anna  went  to  him. 

"  My  precious  !  "  she  said. 

She  could  not  say  the  word  "farewell"  [jpnxsftcftdS]  ;  but 
the  expression  of  her  face  said  it,  and  he  understood. 

"  My  precious,  precious  Kutik  !  "  she  said,  calling  him  by 
a  pet  name  which  she  used  when  he  was  a  baby.  "  You  will 
not  forget  me  ;  you  "  —  but  she  could  not  say  another  word. 

Only  then  she  began  to  remember  the  words  which  she 
wanted  to  say  to  him,  but  now  it  was  impossible  to  say  them. 
Serozha,  however,  understood  all  that  she  would  have  said ; 
he  understood  that  she  was  unhappy,  and  that  she  loved  him. 
He  even  understood  what  the  nurse  whispered  in  her  ear  ;  he 
heard  the  words  "  always  at  nine  o'clock,"  and  he  knew  that 
they  referred  to  his  father,  and  that  his  mother  must  not 
meet  him.  He  understood  this,  but  one  thing  he  could  not 
understand  :  why  did  her  face  express  fear  and  shame?  .  .  . 
She  was  not  to  blame,  but  she  was  afraid  of  him,  and  seemed 
ashamed  of  something.  He  wanted  to  ask  a  question  which 
would  have  explained  this  circumstance,  but  he  did  not  dare  : 
he  saw  that  she  was  in  sorrow,  and  he  pitied  her.  He  silently 
clung  close  to  her,  and  then  he  whispered,  "Don't  go  yet! 
He  will  not  come  yet  awhile." 

His  mother  pushed  him  away  from  her  a  little,  in  order  to 
see  if  he  understood  the  meaning  of  what  he  had  said,  and 
in  the  frightened  expression  of  his  face  she  perceived  that 
he  not  only  spoke  of  his  father,  but  seemed  to  ask  her  how 
he  ought  to  think  about  him. 

"Serozha,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "love  him;  he  is  better 
than  I  am  ;  and  I  have  been  wicked  to  him.  When  you 
have  grown  up,  you  will  understand." 

'•  No  one  is  better  than  you,"  cried  the  child,  with  sobs  of 
despair  ;  and,  clinging  to  his  mother's  shoulders,  he  squeezed 
her  with  all  the  force  of  his  little  trembling  arms. 

"  Dushenlca.  my  darling  ! "  stammered  Anna  ;  and,  bursting 
into  tears,  she  sobbed  like  a  child,  even  as  he  sobbed. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Vasili  Lukitch  came 


540  ANNA    KARtfNINA. 

in.  Steps  were  heard  at  the  other  door  ;  and,  in  a  frightened 
whisper,  he  exclaimed,  "  He  is  coming,"  and  gave  Anna  her 
hat. 

Serozha  threw  himself  on  the  bed,  sobbing,  and  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands.  Anna  took  them  away  to  kiss  yet 
once  again  his  tear-stained  cheeks,  and  then  with  quick  steps 
hurried  from  the  room.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  met  her  at 
the  door.  When  he  saw  her,  he  stopped  and  bowed  his 
head. 

Though  she  had  declared  a  moment  before  that  he  was 
better  than  she,  the  swift  glance  that  she  gave  him,  taking 
in  his  whole  person,  awoke  in  her  only  a  feeling  of  hatred 
and  scorn  for  him,  and  jealousy  on  account  of  her  son.  She 
hurriedly  lowered  her  veil,  and,  quickening  her  step,  almost 
ran  from  the  room.  She  had  entirety  forgotten  in  her  haste 
the  playthings  which,  on  the  evening  before,  she  had  bought 
with  so  much  love  and  sadness  ;  and  she  took  them  back 
with  her  to  the  hotel. 

XXXI. 

ALTHOUGH  Anna  had  tried  to  be  prepared  beforehand,  she 
did  not  realize  how  violently  she  would  be  moved  at  the  sight 
of  her  son ;  when  she  got  back  to  the  hotel  again,  she  could 
not  for  a  long  time  understand  why  she  was  there.  "  Yes  ; 
all  is  over ;  I  am  alone  again,"  she  said  to  herself ;  and, 
without  taking  off  her  hat,  she  threw  herself  into  an  easy- 
chair  near  the  fireplace.  And,  fixing  her  eyes  on  a  bronze 
clock  standing  on  a  bracket  between  two  windows,  she 
became  absorbed  in  thought. 

The  French  maid,  whom  she  had  brought  from  abroad 
with  her,  came  in  to  get  her  orders  ;  Anna  looked  at  her 
with  surprise,  and  replied,  "By  and  by."  A  servant  came 
to  announce  breakfast :  "By  and  by,"  she  said  once  more. 

The  Italian  nurse  came  in,  bringing  the  child  whom  she 
had  just  dressed  ;  the  little  one  smik-d  when  she  saw  her 
mother,  and  beat  the  air  with  her  little  plump  hands,  like  a 
fish  waving  its  fins  ;  she  pulled  at  the  starched  tucks  of  her 
embroidered  skirt,  and  reached  out  her  arms  to  Anna,  who 
could  not  resist  her.  She  could  not  help  kissing  lit  r  little 
daughter's  fresh  cheeks  and  pretty  shoulders,  and  letting  her 
catch  hold  of  one  of  her  fingers,  screaming  with  delisiht,  and 
jumping ;  she  could  not  help  taking  her  in  her  arms,  and 


ANNA    KARENINA.  541 

trotting  her  on  her  knee  ;  but  the  sight  of  this  child  made 
her  feel  clearly  that  the  affection  which  she  felt  for  it  was 
not  the  same  kind  of  love  that  she  had  for  Serozha.  Every- 
thing about  this  little  girl  was  lovely  ;  but  she  did  not  fill 
the  wants  of  her  heart. 

All  the  strength  of  her  affection  had  heretofore  centered 
in  her  first-born,  although  he  was  the  child  of  a  man  whom 
she  did  not  love.  Her  daughter  was  born  under  the  saddest 
circumstances,  had  never  received  the  one  hundredth  part  of 
the  care  which  she  had  spent  on  Serozha.  Moreover,  the 
little  girl  only  represented  hopes,  while  Serozha  was  almost 
a  man,  and  a  lovely  man  !  He  had  already  begun  to  struggle 
with  his  thoughts  and  feelings  ;  he  loved  his  mother,  un- 
derstood her,  judged  her  perhaps,  she  thought,  recalling 
her  son's  words ;  and  now  she  was  separated  from  him, 
morally  as  well  as  materially  ;  and  she  saw  no  way  of  reme- 
dying the  situation. 

After  she  had  given  the  little  one  back  to  her  nurse,  and 
sent  them  away,  Anna  opened  a  locket  containing  Serozha's 
picture  at  the  same  age  as  his  sister ;  then,  taking  off  her 
hat,  she  looked  in  an  album  for  other  pictures  of  him  taken 
at  different  periods ;  she  wanted  to  compare  them,  and  she 
took  them  all  out  of  the  album.  (5ne  was  left,  the  last,  the 
best  photograph  of  him.  It  represented  Serozha  astride  a 
chair,  in  a  white  frock,  a  smile  on  his  lips,  and  a  shadow  in 
his  eyes ;  it  was  a  perfect  likeness  of  his  best  expression. 
Holding  the  album  in  her  little  deft  hands,  whiclx  to-day 
moved  with  extraordinary  effort,  she  tried  with  her  slender 
white  fingers  to  take  it  from  its  place ;  but  the  photograph 
stuck,  and  she  could  not  get  at  it.  There  was  no  paper- 
cutter  on  the  table,  and  she  took  up  another  photograph  at 
random  to  push  out  the  card  from  its  place. 

It  was  a  picture  of  Vronsky,  taken  in  Rome,  with  long 
hair  and  a  round  felt  hat. 

"  Da!  There  he  is,"  she  said  to  herself,  and  as  she  looked 
at  him  she  suddenly  remembered  that  he  was  the  cause  of  all 
her  present  suffering. 

Not  once  had  she  thought  of  him  all  the  morning ;  but  the 
sight  of  this  manly  and  noble  face,  which  she  knew  and 
loved  so  well,  brought  a  flood  of  affection  to  her  heart. 

"•  Da!  Where  is  he?  Why  does  he  leave  me  alone  a  prey 
to  my  grief?"  she  asked  with  bitterness,  forgetting  that  she 
herself  carefully  concealed  from  him  everything  concerning 


542  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

her  son.  She  sent  a  message  to  him,  asking  him  to  come  to 
her  immediately,  and  waited,  with  heavy  heart,  for  the  tender 
words  with  which  he  would  try  to  console  her.  The  servant 
returned  to  say  that  Vronsky  had  a  visitor,  but  that  he  would 
come  very  soon  :  —  could  she  receive  him  with  Prince  Yashvin, 
who  had  just  arrived  in  Petersburg.  "He  will  not  come 
alone,  and  he  has  not  seen  me  since  yesterday  at  dinner," 
she  thought;  "and  he  does  not  come  so  that  I  can  speak 
with  him,  but  he  comes  with  Yashvin."  And  a  cruel  thought 
crossed  her  mind  :  "  If  he  no  longer  loves  me  ?  " 

She  went  over  in  her  mind  all  the  incidents  of  the  past  few 
days  ;  she  found  her  terrible  thought  confirmed  by  them. 
The  day  before  he  had  not  dined  with  her  ;  they  did  not  have 
the  same  room  now  that  they  were  in  Petersburg ;  and  now 
he  was  bringing  some  one  with  him  as  if  to  avoid  being  alone 
with  her. 

"  But  he  must  tell  me  this.  I  must  know  it.  If  it  is  true, 
I  know  what  I  must  do,"  she  said,  quite  beside  herself  from 
imagining  what  would  happen  if  Vronsky's  indifference  should 
prove  to  be  true.  She  began  to  feel  that  he  did  not  love  her 
any  more  ;  she  imagined  herself  reduced  to  despair,  and  her 
feelings  made  her  over-excited  ;  she  rang  for  her  maid,  went 
into  her  dressing-room  *  and  took  extreme  pains  with  her 
dress  as  though  the  sight  of  her  toilet  and  way  of  dressing 
her  hair  would  bring  back  Vronsky's  love,  if  he  had  grown 
indifferent.  The  bell  rung  before  she  was  ready. 

When  she  returned  to  the  drawing-room,  she  saw  not 
Vronsky  but  Yashvin,  looking  at  Serozha's  pictures,  which 
she  had  left  lying  on  the  table. 

"We  are  old  acquaintances,"  she  said  to  him,  going 
towards  him  and  placing  her  small  hand  in  Yashvin's  enor- 
mous hand.  He  was  all  confusion,  and  this  seemed  odd, 
contrasted  with  his  gigantic  form  and  decided  features. 
"We  met  last  year  at  the  races.  —  Give  them  to  me,"  she 
said,  snatching  her  son's  photographs  from  Vronksy  who  was 
looking  at  them,  while  her  eyes  blazed  at  him  significantly. 
"  Were  the  races  successful  this  year?  We  saw  the  races 
at  Rome  on  the  Corso.  But  I  believe  you  do  not  like  life 
abroad,"  she  added,  with  a  fascinating  smile.  "  I  know 
you,  and,  although  we  seldom  meet,  I  know  your  tastes." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  for  lhat,  because  my  tastes  are  gener- 
ally bad,"  said  Yashvin.  biting  the  left  side  of  his  moustache. 

After  they  had  talked  some  little  time,  Yashviu,  seeing 


ANNA  KARENINA.  543 

Vronsky  look  at  his  watch,  asked  Anna  if  she  expected  to 
be  in  Petersburg  long.  Then  stooping  with  his  huge  back, 
he  picked  up  his  kepi. 

"•  Probably  not  long,"  she  replied  in  some  confusion,  and 
looked  at  Vronsky. 

"  Then  we  shall  not  meet  again?  "  said  Yashvin,  turning 
towards  Vronsky.  '"  "Where  are  you  going  to  dine?" 

'•Come  and  dine  with  me,"  said  Anna,  with  decision  ;  and, 
vexed  because  she  could  not  conceal  her  confusion  whenever 
her  false  situation  became  evident  before  a  stranger,  she 
blushed.  "  The  table  here  is  not  good,  but  you  will  at  least 
see  each  other.  Of  all  AlekseVs  messmates,  you  are  his 
favorite." 

"  I  should  be  delighted,"  replied  Yashvin,  with  a  smile 
which  proved  to  Vronsky  that  he  was  very  much  pleased 
with  Anna.  Yashvin  took  leave  of  them  and  went  away, 
while  Vrouksy  lingered  behind. 

"  Are  you  going  too?  "  she  asked  him. 

"  I  am  alread\'  late.  Go  ahead,  I  will  overtake  you," 
he  shouted  to  Yashvin. 

She  took  his  hand,  and,  without  taking  her  eyes  off  from 
him,  tried  to  find  something  to  say  to  detain  him. 

"•  Wait ;  I  want  to  ask  you  something,"  and  she  pressed 
Vronsky 's  hand  against  her  cheek.  "  Da!  did  I  do  wrong 
to  invite  him  to  dinner?" 

"  You  did  quite  right,"  he  replied,  with  a  calm  smile. 

"  Alekse"i,  do  you  feel  changed  towards  me?"  she  asked, 
pressing  his  hand  between  her  own.  "  Alekse"i,  I  am  tired 
of  staying  here.  When  shall  we  go  away?" 

"  Soon,  very  soon.  You  can't  imagine  how  our  life  here 
weighs  upon  me  too,"  and  he  drew  away  his  hand. 

"Nu!  go,  go  away!"  she  said  in  an  injured  tone,  and 
quickly  left  him. 

XXXII. 

WHEN  Vronsky  came  back  to  the  hotel,  Anna  was  not 
there.  They  told  him  that  she  had  gone  out  with  a  lady 
who  came  to  call  upon  her.  This  way  of  disappearing  with- 
out saying  where  she  was  going,  added  to  her  agitated 
manner  and  the  harsh  tone  with  which  she  had  taken  away 
her  son's  photographs  from  him  before  Yashvin,  made 
Vronsky  wonder.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  ask  for  an  ex- 
planation, and  waited  in  the  drawing-room  for  her  return. 


544  ANNA   KAREN1XA. 

Anna  did  not  come  back  alone  ;  she  brought  with  her  her 
old  aunt,  the  Princess  Oblonskai'a.  She  was  the  lady  who 
had  come,  and  with  whom  she  had  been  shopping.  Without 
noticing  Vronsky's  uneasy,  questioning  manner,  Anna  be- 
gan to  talk  gayly  about  the  purchases  she  had  made  in  the 
morning ;  but  he  read  a  mental  strain  in  her  shining  eyes,  as 
she  glanced  at  him  furtively,  and  a  feverish  excitement  in 
her  movements  which  disturbed  and  troubled  him. 

The  table  was  laid  for  four,  and  just  as  they  were  going  to 
sit  down,  Tushkievitch  was  announced.  He  had  come  from 
the  Princess  Betsy  with  a  message  for  Anna. 

Betsy  sent  her  excuses  for  not  coming  in  person  to  say 
good-bye  to  her.  She  was  not  well,  and  asked  Anna  to 
come  to  see  her  between  half -past  seven  and  nine  o'clock. 
Vronsky  looked  at  Anna  as  if  he  would  draw  her  attention 
to  the  fact  that  in  naming  a  time  she  had  taken  the  neces- 
sary precautions  against  her  meeting  anybody  ;  but  Anna 
did  not  seem  to  pay  any  attention  to  it. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  shall  not  be  at  liberty  exactly 
between  half-past  seven  and  nine,"  she  said  with  a  slight 
smile. 

"  The  princess  will  be  very  much  disappointed." 

"  So  shall  I." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  going  to  hear  Patti,"  said  Tushkie- 
vitch." 

"Patti?  You  give  me  an  idea.  I  would  go  certainly,  if 
I  could  get  a  loge." 

"  I  can  get  you  one." 

"I  should  be  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Anna; 
"da!  but  won't  you  dine  with  us?" 

Vronsky  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly ;  he  did  not  know 
what  to  make  of  Anna.  Why  had  she  brought  home  the  old 
princess,  why  was  she  keeping  Tushkievitch  to  dinner,  and 
above  all,  why  did  she  ask  him  for  a  box?  Was  it  to  be 
thought  of  for  a  moment  that  she,  in  her  position,  could  go 
to  the  opera  on  a  subscription  night,  when  she  would  meet 
all  her  acquaintances  there  ?  He  looked  at  her  seriously,  but 
she  responded  with  a  half -despairing,  half-mocking  look,  the 
meaning  of  which  he  could  not  understand.  All  through 
dinner  Anna  was  very  lively,  and  seemed  to  flirt  first  with 
Tushkievitch,  and  then  with  Yashvin.  When  the}'  rose 
from  the  table,  Tushkievitch  went  to  engage  a  box,  and 
Yashvin  went  down-stairs  to  smoke  with  Vronsky ;  after 


ANNA    KARtiNINA.  545 

some  time  the  latter  came  upstairs  again  and  found  Anna  in 
a  light  silk  dress  bought  in  Paris.  It  was  trimmed  with 
velvet  and  had  an  open  front.  On  her  head  she  wore  costly 
white  lace,  which  set  off  to  advantage  the  striking  beauty  of 
her  face. 

"Are  you  really  going  to  the  theatre?"  he  asked,  trying 
to  avoid  looking  at  her. 

"Why  do  you  ask  me  in  such  a  terrified  way?"  she 
replied,  hurt  because  he  did  not  look  at  her.  "Why 
shouldn't  I  go?" 

She  did  not  seem  to  understand  the  meaning  of  his  words. 

"  Of  course,  there  is  no  reason  for  it,"  said  he,  frowning. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  said,"  she  replied,  not  wishing  to 
see  the  sarcasm  of  his  remark,  and  calmly  putting  on  a  long 
perfumed  glove. 

"  Anna,  for  heaven's  sake,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?  " 
he  said  to  her,  trying  to  bring  her  to  her  senses,  as  her  hus- 
band had  more  than  once  done  in  vain. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  You  know  very  well  that  you  can't  go  there." 

"  Why  not?  I  am  not  going  alone  ;  the  Princess  Varvara 
has  gone  to  dress ;  she  is  going  with  me." 

"  But  don't  you  know  ?  "  —  he  began. 

"  Da,  I  don't  want  to  know  anything  !  "  she  said,  almost 
crying.  "  I  don't  want  to  know.  Am  I  sorry  for  anything 
I  have  done  ?  No,  no,  no,  indeed  ;  if  it  were  to  begin  over 
again,  I  would  begin  over  again.  There  is  only  one  thing 
of  any  consequence  to  you  and  me,  and  that  is  to  know 
whether  we  love  each  other.  Everything  else  is  of  no 
account.  Why  do  we  live  separate  here,  and  not  see  each 
other?  Why  can't  I  go  where  I  please?  I  love  you,  and 
everything  is  right,  if  your  feelings  have  not  changed 
towards  me,"  she  said  in  Russian,  with  a  peculiar  look, 
which  he  could  not  understand;  "why  don't  you  look  at 
me?" 

He  looked  at  her,  he  saw  her  beauty,  and  the  dress  which 
was  so  becoming  to  her ;  but  this  beauty  and  this  elegance 
were  pi'ecisely  what  irritated  him. 

"You  know  very  well  that  nry  feelings  cannot  change; 
but  I  beg  you  not  to  go  out,"  he  said  again  in  French,  in 
a  beseeching  voice,  but  with  a  cold  look. 

She  did  not  hear  his  words,  but  noticed  only  the  coldness 
of  his  look,  and  replied  with  an  injured  air,  — 


546  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

' '  And  I  for  my  part  beg  you  to  explain  why  I  should  not 
go." 

''  Because  it  may  cause  you" —     He  was  confused. 

"  I  don't  understand  at  all :  Tushkie'vitch,  n'est  pas  compro- 
mettant,  and  the  Princess  Varvara  is  no  worse  than  anybody 
else.  Ah  !  here  she  is  !  " 

XXXIII. 

FOR  the  first  time  in  his  life  Vronsky  felt  towards  Anna  a 
sensation  of  vexation  bordering  on  auger.  What  vexed  him 
above  all  was  that  he  could  not  explain  the  reason  of  his 
vexation  ;  that  he  could  not  tell  Anna,  frankly,  that  to  ap- 
pear at  the  opera  in  such  a  toilet,  with  a  person  like  the 
princess,  was  equivalent  to  throwing  down  the  gauntlet  to 
public  opinion  ;  to  confessing  herself  a  lost  woman,  and,  con- 
sequently, renouncing  all  hope  of 'ever  going  into  society 
again. 

"Why  did  she  not  understand  it?  What  has  happened 
to  her?"  he  asked  himself.  He  felt  at  one  and  the  same 
time  a  lessened  esteem  for  Anna's  character  and  a  greater 
sense  of  her  beauty. 

Going  back  to  his  room,  he  sat  down,  full  of  anxiety,  be- 
side Yashvin,  who  was  drinking  a  mixture  of  seltzer  water 
and  brandy,  with  his  long  legs  stretched  out  on  a  chair. 
Vronsky  followed  his  example. 

"You  spoke  of  Lanskof's  horse?  He  is  a  fine  animal, 
and  I  advise  you  to  buy  him,"  began  Yashvin,  glancing  at 
bis  comrade's  solemn  face.  His  crupper  is  tapering,  but 
what  legs  !  and  what  a  head  !  You  couldn't  do  better." 

"  I  think  I  should  do  well  to  take  him,"  replied  Vronsky. 

All  the  while  he  was  talking  with  his  friend  he  never 
ceased  thinking  of  Anna,  and  involuntarily  listened  to  what 
was  going  on  in  the  corridor,  and  kept  looking  at  the  clock 
on  the  mantel. 

"Anna  Arkadyevna  left  word  that  she  had  gone  to  the 
theatre,"  a  servant  announced. 

Yashvin  poured  out  another  little  glass  of  cognac  and 
seltzer,  drank  it,  and  rose,  buttoning  up  his  uniform. 

"Well,  shall  we  go?"  said  he,  half  smiling  beneath  his 
long  mustachios,  and  showing  that  he  understood  the  cause 
of  Vronsky's  vexation,  without  attaching  much  importance 
to  it. 


ANNA    KARfiNINA.  547 

"  I  am  not  going,"  replied  Vronsky,  gloornil3r. 

"I  promised,  so  1  must  go;  good-bye!  If  3"ou  should 
change  your  mind,  take  Krasiusky's  seat,  which  will  be  unoc- 
cupied," he  added,  as  he  went  out. 

"  No  ;  I  have  some  work  to  do." 

"  A  man  has  trials  with  a  wife,  but  with  a  not-wife  it  is 
still  worse,"  thought  Yashvin  as  he  left  the  hotel. 

When  Vronsky  was  alone,  he  rose,  and  began  to  walk  up 
and  down  the  room. 

"/}«/  To-night?  The  fourth  subscription  night.  My 
brother  Yegor  will  be  there  with  his  wife,  and  with  my 
mother,  probably ;  in  fact,  all  Petersburg  will  be  there ! 
Now  she  is  going  in,  and  is  taking  off  her  shuba,  and  there 
she  is  in  the  light !  Tushki£vitch,  Yashvin,  the  Princess 
Varvara  !  What  am  I  to  do?  am  1  afraid?  or  have  I  given 
Tushkievitch  the  right  to  protect  her?  However  you  may 
look  at  it,  it  is  absurd,  it  is  absurd  !  Why  should  she  place 
me  in  such  a  ridiculous  position?"  he  said,  with  a  gesture 
of  despair.  This  movement  jostled  the  stand  on  which  the 
tray  with  the  cognac  and  seltzer  water  was  placed,  and 
nearly  knocked  it  over ;  in  trying  to  rescue  it,  he  upset  it 
entirely ;  he  rang,  and  gave  a  kick  to  the  table. 

"  If  you  want  to  remain  in  my  service,  don't  forget  what 
you  have  to  do,"  said  he  to  the  valet  who  appeared. 
"Don't  let  this  happen  again;  why  didn't  you  take  these 
things  away  before?" 

The  valet,  knowing  his  innocence,  wished  to  justify  him- 
self; but  one  glance  at  the  barin  showed  him  that  it  was  best 
for  him  to  be  silent ;  and,  making  a  hasty  excuse,  he  got 
down  upon  the  floor  to  pick  up  the  broken  glasses  and  water 
bottles. 

"That  is  not  your  business;  call  a  waiter,  and  get  my 
coat." 

Vronsky  entered  the  theatre  at  half-past  nine.  The  play 
had  begun. 

The  Kapelldiener  recognized  Vronsky,  as  he  took  off  his 
shuba,  and  called  him  "your  Excellency"  \_Vashe  /Sidtelstvo]. 

The  lighted  lobby  was  empty,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Kapelldiener  and  two  valets  holding  shubas,  and  listening  at 
the  doors  ;  the  sound  of  the  orchestra  could  be  heard  care- 
fully accompanying  a  woman's  voice :  the  door  opened  as 
another  Kapelldiener,  who  had  charge  of  seating  the  spec- 


548  ANNA    KARENINA. 

tators,'  passed  through,  and  the  phrase,  as  it  came  to  an  end, 
readied  Vronsky's  ears.  He  could  not  hear  the  last  part,  for 
the  door  had  closed  again  ;  but  from  the  applause  which  fol- 
lowed, he  knew  that  the  aria  was  ended. 

The  plaudits  still  continued  as  he  went  into  the  auditorium, 
brilliantly  lighted  with  lustres  and  bronze  chandeliers;  on  the 
stage,  the  prima  donna,  with  bare  shoulders  and  covered  with 
diamonds,  was  bowing  and  smiling,  and,  with  the  assistance 
of  the  tenor,  who  gave  her  his  hand,  was  bending  forward 
to  pick  up  numerous  bouquets. 

A  gentleman  with  carefully  oiled  hair  reached  out  his  arms 
to  hand  her  a  jewel-case,  and  the  whole  audience,  boxes  and 
parquet,  shouted,  applauded,  and  rose  to  their  feet.  The 
Kapelmeixter,  fixing  his  white  necktie,  came  to  meet  him. 
Vronsky  went  forward  to  the  middle  of  the  parquet,  stopped 
and  looked  through  the  audience,  paying  less  attention  than 
ever  to  the  stage,  the  noise,  and  all  this  crowd  of  spectators 
crammed  into  the  theatre. 

There  were  the  same  ladies  in  the  boxes,  with  the  same 
officers  behind  them,  the  same  gayly  dressed  women,  the 
same  uniforms,  and  the  same  dress  coats  ;  in  the  gallery  the 
same  disorderly  crowd  ;  and  in  all  this  closely  packed  house, 
perhaps  forty  people,  men  and  women,  represented  society. 
Vronsky's  attention  was  turned  towards  this  oasis. 

The  act  was  just  over  as  Vronsky  went  towards  the  first 
row  of  seats,  and  stopped  near  the  railing  beside  Serpukhov- 
skoi, who,  seeing  him  at  a  distance,  had  beckoned  to  him 
with  a  smile. 

Vronsky  had  not  yet  seen  Anna,  and  purposely  refrained 
from  looking  for  her  ;  but  from  the  direction  in  which  all  eyes 
were  turned,  he  guessed  the  place  where  she  was  to  be 
found.  Worse  yet,  he  trembled  for  fear  of  seeing  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  ;  to  his  joy  the  latter  was  not  at  the  theatre 
this  evening. 

"How  unmartial  you  look,"  said  Serpukhovskoi;  "one 
would  take  you  for  a  diplomat  —  an  artist  —  anybody." 

"  Yes ;  on  my  return  home  I  put  on  citizen's  dress," 
replied  Vronsky,  slowly  taking  out  his  opera-glasses. 

"  That  is  why  I  envy  you  ;  when  I  came  back  to  Russia, 
I  must  confess  that  I  regretted  to  put  these  on  again,  when 
I  got  home  from  abroad,"  said  he,  pointing  to  his  epaulets. 
"  I  mourn  for  my  liberty." 

Serpukhovskoi  had  long  since   given   up  trying  to  push 


ANNA    KAKENINA.  549 

Vronsky  along  in  his  military  career,  but  he  continued  to 
have  a  warm  affection  for  him,  and  seemed  especially  friendly 
towards  him  on  this  evening. 

"•  It  is  too  bad  that  you  lost  the  first  act." 

Vronskv,  while  listening  with  one  ear,  examined  the  boxes 
and  the  first  tier  of  seats,  with  his  opera-glass  ;  suddenly 
Anna's  head  came  into  view,  proud,  and  strikingly  beautiful, 
in  its  frame  of  laces,  next  a  lady  in  a  turban,  and  a  bald- 
headed  old  man,  who  blinked  as  he  gazed  through  his  opera- 
glass.  Anna  was  in  the  fifth  box,  not  more  than  twenty  feet 
from  him ;  she  was  seated  in  the  front  of  the  box,  turning 
slightly  away,  and  was  talking  with  Yashvin.  Her  neck,  her 
beautiful,  rich  shoulders,  the  radiance  of  her  eyes  and  face, 
—  all  brought  her  back  to  him  us  she  had  looked  that  evening 
at  the  ball  in  Moscow.  But  her  beauty  no  longer  inspired 
hiii)  with  the  same  feelings ;  there  was  nothing  mysterious 
about  them  :  so,  while  more  than  ever  under  the  sway  of  her 
charm,  he  felt  almost  hurt  to  see  her  so  beautiful.  She  did 
not  look  at  him,  but  he  felt  that  she  had  already  seen  him. 

When  Vronsky  again  directed  his  opera-glass  towards  the 
box,  he  saw  the  Princess  Varvara,  very  red  in  the  face,  look- 
ing frequently  with  a  forced  laugh  at  the  next  box  ;  Anna, 
striking  her  closed  fan  against  red  velvet,  was  looking  away, 
evidently  intending  not  to  notice  what  was  going  on  about 
her.  Yashvin's  face  wore  the  same  expression  as  when  a 
game  went  against  him  ;  he  drew  his  left  mustachio  more 
and  more  into  his  mouth,  frowned,  and  looked  across  into 
the  neighboring  box. 

In  this  box  were  the  Kartasofs.  Vronsky  knew  them, 
and  he  knew  that  Anna,  too,  had  been  on  friendly  terms 
with  them  ;  Madame  Kartasova,  a  little,  thin  woman,  was 
standing  with  her  back  to  Anna,  and  putting  on  an  opera- 
cloak,  which  her  husband  handed  to  her  ;  her  face  was  pale 
and  angry ;  she  seemed  to  be  expressing  her  mind  very 
freely  about  something.  Kartasof,  a  stumpy,  bald-headed 
man,  kept  looking  at 'Anna,  and  trying  to  calm  his  wife. 

When  Madame  Kartasova  left  the  box,  her  husband  lin- 
gered, trying  to  catch  Anna's  eye,  to  bow  to  her;  but  she 
evidently  did  not  wish  to  notice  him,  and  leaned  back  to 
speak  to  Yashvin,  whose  shaven  head  was  bent  towards  her. 
Kartasof  went  out  without  having  bowed,  and  the  box  was 
left  empty. 

Vrousky  did  not  understand  the   meaning   of  this   little 


550  ANNA    KARtiNINA. 

scene,  but  he  felt  perfectly  sure  that  Anna  had  been  morti- 
fied ;  he  saw  by  the  expression  of  her  face  that  she  was 
summoning  all  her  strength  to  keep  up  her  part  to  the  end, 
and  to  appear  perfectly  calm.  Those  who  knew  nothing  of 
her  history,  who  could  not  hear  her  old  friends'  expressions 
of  indignation  at  her  appearing  in  this  way,  in  all  the 
splendor  of  her  beauty  and  of  her  dress,  would  not  have 
suspected  that  this  woman  was  undergoing  the  same  feelings 
of  shame  as  a  malefactor  at  the  pillory. 

Vronsky,  deeply  troubled,  went  to  his  brother's  box, 
hoping  to  learn  something  about  the  matter.  He  intention- 
ally crossed  the  parquet,  on  the  side  opposite  to  Anna's  box, 
and  as  he  went,  ran  across  his  old  colonel,  who  was  talking 
with  two  of  his  acquaintances.  Vronsky  heard  the  Kare- 
nius'  name  spoken,  and  noticed  that  the  colonel  hastened  to 
call  to  him  aloud,  while  he  gave  his  friends  a  significant 
look. 

"Ah!  Vronsky!  When  shall  we  see  you  again  in  the 
regiment?  we  shan't  ask  your  permission  to  give  you  a  ban- 
quet. You  are  ours,  every  inch  of  you,"  said  the  colonel.  . 

"  I  shan't  have  the  time  now.  I  am  awfully  sorry," 
replied  Vronsk}',  going  rapidly  up  the  steps  which  led  to  his 
brother's  box. 

The  old  countess,  his  mother,  with  her  little  steel-colored 
curls*  was  in  the  box.  Varia  and  the  young  Princess  Soro- 
kina  were  walking  together  in  the  lobby.  As  soon  as  she  saw 
her  brother-in-law,  Varia  went  back  to  her  mother  with  her 
companion,  and  then,  taking  Vronsky's  arm,  broached  the 
subject  which  concerned  him.  She  showed  more  excitement 
than  he  had  ever  seen  in  her. 

"  I  think  it  is  dastardly  and  vile  ;  Madame  Kartasova  had 
no  right  to  do  so.  Madame  Karenina"  —  she  began. 

"But  what  is-  the  matter?  I  don't  know  what  you 
mean." 

"  What?  you  haven't  heard  anything  about  it?" 

"  You  know  very  well  that  I  should  be  the  last  person  to 
know  anything  of  the  kind." 

"Is  there  a  more  wicked  creature  in  the  world  than  this 
Madame  Kartasova !  " 

"  But  what  has  she  done?  " 

"My  husband  told  me  about  it:  she  insulted  Madame 
Rare"  lina.  Her  husband  began  to  speak  across  to  her  from 
his  box,  and  Madame  Kartasova  made  a  scene  about  it. 


ANXA    A'AJIJ-:\1XA.  551 

The}'  say  she  said  something  very  offensive  in  a  loud  voice, 
and  went  out.*' 

"  Count,  your  maman  is  calling  you,"  said  the  young  Prin- 
cess Sorokiua,  opening  the  door  of  the  box. 

'•I  have  been  waiting  for  you  all  this  time,"  said  his 
mother  to  him,  with  a  sarcastic  smile;  "we  never  see  any- 
thing of  you  now." 

The  son  felt  that  she  could  not  conceal  a  smile  of  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  Good  evening,  maman.  I  am  coming  to  see  you,"  he 
replied,  coolly. 

"  AVhat,  I  hope  you  are  not  going  faire  la  cour  a  Madame 
K<(renina"  [to  pay  court  to  Madame  Kare*mna],  she  added, 
when  the  young  Princess  Sorokina  was  out  of  hearing  ;  "elle 
fjit  sensation.  On  oublie  la  Patti pour  elle"  [she  is  making  a 
sensation.  Patti  is  forgotten  for  her]. 

"  Maman,  I  have  begged  you  not  to  speak  to  me  about 
her,"  he  replied,  gloomily. 

"f  only  say  what  everybody  is  saying." 

Vronsky  did  not  reply  ;  and  after  exchanging  a  few  words 
with  the  young  princess,  he  went  out.  He  met  his  brother 
at  the  door. 

"Ah,  Alekse"i ! "  said  his  brother,  "how  abominable! 
She  is  a  silly  thing,  nothing  more.  I  am  going  to  see  Mad- 
ame Kare'nina.  Let  us  go  together." 

Vronsky  did  not  listen  ;  he  ran  hastily  down  the  steps, 
feeling  that  he  ought  to  do  something,  but  knew  not  what  it 
was. 

Stirred  with  anger,  furious  at  the  false  position  in  which 
Anna  had  placed  them  both,  he  nevertheless  was  full  of  pity 
for  her. 

As  he  went  from  the  parquet  towards  Anna's  loge,  he  saw 
Stremof  leaning  on  the  box,  talking  with  her. 

"There  are  no  more  tenors,"  he  said;  "  la  moule  en  est 
brise"  [the  mould  is  broken]. 

Vronsky  bowed  to  her,  and  stopped  to  speak  with  Stremof. 

"  You  came  late,  it  seems  to  me,  and  you  lost  the  best 
aria,"  s;iid  Anna  to  Vronsky,  in  a  way  which  seemed  to  him 
scornful. 

"  I  am  not  a  very  good  judge,"  he  replied,  looking  at  her 
severely . 

"Like  Prince  Yashvin,"  she  said,  smiling,  "who  thinks 
Patti  sings  too  loud." 


552  ANNA    KARfiNINA. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  taking  the  programme  that 
Vronsky  passed  to  her,  iu  her  little  hand,  encased  in  a  long 
glove  ;  and  at  the  same  moment  her  beautiful  face  quivered  ; 
she  rose  and  went  to  the  back  of  the  box. 

The  last  act  had  hardly  begun,  when  Vronsk}-,  seeing 
Anna's  box  empty,  rose,  left  the  parquet,  and  went  back  to 
the  hotel. 

Anna  had  also  returned  ;  Yronsky  found  her  just  as  she 
was  at  the  theatre,  sitting  in  the  first  chair  she  had  come  to, 
near  the  wall,  looking  straight  before  her.  When  she  saw 
Vronsky  enter,  she  glanced  at  him  without  moving. 

"Anna,"  he  said. 

"It  is  you,  you  who  are  the  cause  of  it  all!"  she  ex- 
claimed, rising,  with  tears  of  auger,  and  despair  in  her  voice. 

"I  begged  you,  I  implored  you,  not  to  go  ;  I  knew  that 
it  would  be  unpleasant  to  you." 

"Unpleasant!"  she  exclaimed;  "it  was  horrible!  If  I 
should  live  a  hundred  years,  I  shouldn't  forget  it.  She  said 
that  it  was  a  disgrace  to  sit  near  me." 

"  She  was  a  fool  to  say  such  a  thing  ;  but  why  did  you 
run  the  risk  of  hearing  it;  why  did  you  expose  yourself?" 

"  I  hate  your  calm  way.  You  should  never  have  driven 
me  to  this  ;  if  you  loved  me  "  — 

"  Anna  !  what  has  my  love  to  do  with  this  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  you  loved  me  as  I  love  you,  if  you  suffered  as 
I "  —  she  said,  looking  terrified. 

He  pitied  her  and  protested  his  love,  because  he  saw  that 
it  was  the  only  way  to  calm  her  ;  but  in  the  bottom  of  his 
heart  he  was  angry  with  her. 

She,  on  the  contrary,  drank  in  his  expi'essions  of  love, 
which  he  thought  idle  to  repeat,  and  gradually  became  her- 
self again. 

Two  days  later  they  left  for  the  country,  completely 
reconciled. 


ANNA    KARtiNINA.  553 

PART  VI. 
I. 

DARYA  ALEKSANDROVNA  accepted  the  proposition  which 
the  Levins  had  made  her,  to  come  with  her  children  and 
spend  the  summer  at  Pokrovsky  ;  for  her  place,  Yergushovo, 
was  falling  to  ruin.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  who  was  him- 
self detained  by  business  at  Moscow,  heartily  approved  of 
this  arrangement,  and  expressed  much  regret  that  lie  could 
come  to  them  only  for  a  day  or  two.  Besides  the  Oblonskys 
and  their  troop  of  children,  the  Levins  had  with  them  the 
old  princess,  who  considered  her  presence  near  her  daughter 
at  this  particular  time  indispensable  ;'  they  had  also  Varenka, 
Kitty's  Soden  friend,  and  Serge"!  Ivanovitch,  who  alone 
among  this  host  at  Pokrovsky  represented  the  Levin  side 
of  the  family,  and  even  he  was  but  partly  a  Levin.  Kon- 
stantin,  though  strongly  attached  to  all  those  who  lived  be- 
neath his  roof,  discovered  within  himself  a  slight  longing 
for  his  old  ways,  which  proved  that  the  "  Shcherbatsky  ele- 
ment," as  he  called  it,  was  somewhat  overpowering.  The 
old  house,  so  long  deserted,  had  now  scarcely  an  unoccupied 
room.  Each  day,  before  seating  herself  at  the  table,  the 
princess  would  count  the  guests,  to  make  sure  that  there 
were  not  thirteen ;  while  Kitty,  like  an  excellent  house- 
keeper, devoted  herself  to  providing  chickens  and  ducks  for 
the  satisfaction  of  the  various  appetites  of  young  and  old, 
made  keen  by  the  country  air. 

The  family  were  at  table,  and  the  children  were  planning 
to  go  out  and  hunt  for  mushrooms  with  the  governess  and 
Varenka,  when,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  all,  Serge"! 
Ivanovitch  evinced  a  desire  to  join  the  expedition. 

;'  Allow  me  to  go  with  you,"  said  he,  addressing  Varenka. 
"  I  am  very  fond  of  getting  mushrooms ;  I  think  it  is  a  very 
fine  occupation." 

*'  With  pleasure,"  she  answered,  blushing. 

Kitty  exchanged  looks  with  Dolly.  This  proposition  con- 
firmed an  idea  which  had  engrossed  them  for  some  time. 

After  dinner  the  two  brothers  chatted  over  their  coffee, 
but  Sergei  Ivanovitch  watched  the  door  through  which  the 


554  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

children  woukl  have  to  pass  out  on  their  way  to  the  field, 
and  as  soou  as  he  saw  Yarenka  in  her  linen  dress,  with  a 
white  kerchief  over  her  head,  he  interrupted  the  conversa- 
tion, swallowed  the  last  drop  in  his  cup,  and  exclaimed, — 

"  I  am  coming  —  I  am  coming,  Varvara  Andrevua  !  " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  Varenka?  Is  she  not  charm- 
ing?" said  Kitty  to  her  husband,  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
bv  Sergei  Ivauovitdi.  "And  how  lovely  she  is  !  Perfectly 
lovely  !  " 

"  You  constantly  forget  your  condition,  Kitty.  You  ought 
not  to  shout  so,"  interrupted  the  princess,  coming  hastily 
through  the  way. 

On  hearing  Kitty's  voice  and  her  mother's  reproof,  Varenka 
quickly  retraced  her  steps.  Her  face  was  animated,  blush- 
ing, disturbed,  because  she  felt  that  there  was  something 
unusual  going  on.  Kitty  kissed  her,  and  mentally  bestowed 
a  benediction. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  if  a  certain  thing  comes  to  pass," 
she  said  to  her,  in  a  whisper. 

"Are  you  coming  with  us?"  asked  the  young  girl  of 
Levin,  to  hide  her  embarrassment. 

"  Yes,  as  far  as  the  barns  ;  I  have  some  new  carts  to 
examine.  And  you  —  where  shall  I  find  you?"  he  asked 
his  wife. 

"  Upon  the  terrace." 

II. 

THIS  terrace  was  a  favorite  resort  of  the  ladies  after  din- 
ner, and  to-day  a  very  important  matter  was  under  consider- 
ation. Besides  the  usual  manufacture  of  various  articles 
destined  for  the  infant  wardrobe,  certain  sweetmeats  were 
being  concocted  after  a  process  used  by  the  Shcherbatskys, 
but  unknown  to  the  old  Agafya  Mikhailovna.  Flushed, 
with  tumbled  hair,  and  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up  to  the 
elbow,  she  held  the  pan  of  sweetmeats  above  a  small  porta- 
ble stove,  in  very  ill  humor,  inwardly  registering  a  vow  that 
the  raspberry  should  burn.  The  old  princess,  author  of  this 
new  concoction,  and  feeling  herself  abused  because  she  was 
not  allowed  to  superintend  it.  surveyed  these  actions  of  the 
housekeeper  with  a  side  glance,  at  the  same  time  talking  with 
an  indifferent  air  to  her  daughters.  The  conversation  of  the 
three  ladies  fell  upon  Varenka,  and  Kitty,  not  wishing  to  be 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  555 

understood  by  Agafya  Mikhuflovna,  spoke  in  French.  She 
hoped  to  learn  that  Sergei  Ivauovitch  had  declared  himself. 

••  What  do  you  think  of  it,  mamma?" 

"  I  think  he  can  consider  himself  the  best  match  in  Russia  ; 
he  is  no  longer  in  his  first  youth;  I  know  —  but  —  as  for 
her,  she  is  an  excellent  person,  but  he  might"  — 

"•  But  think,  mamma  !  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  with  his  position 
in  the  world,  has  no  need  to  marry  for  family  or  fortune  ; 
what  he  needs  is  some  sweet,  intelligent,  loving  }"oung  girl. 
Oh,  that  would  be  so  nice  !  When  they  come  in  from  their 
walk,  I  shall  read  it  all  in  their  eves !  What  do  vou  say  to 
it,  Dolly?" 

"  Do  not  get  so  excited,"  resumed  the  princess. 

"Mamma,  how  did  papa  ask  you  to  marry  him?"  said 
Kitty  suddenly,  proud,  in  her  position  as  married  woman,  to 
be  able  to  approach  important  subjects  with  her  mother  as 
an  equal. 

"  Very  simply,"  answered  the  princess,  her  face  brighten- 
ing at  the  remembrance. 

' k  You  loved  him  before  he  spoke  ?  " 

"  Certainty.  Do  you  suppose  that  you  have  invented 
something  new  ?  It  was  decided,  as  it  always  is,  by  looks 
and  smiles.  I  doubt  if  Kostia  said  anything  so  very  partic- 
ular to  you." 

"  Oh  !  he  —  he  wrote  his  declaration  with  a  bit  of  chalk. 
How  long  it  seems  since  then,  already  !  " 

"  I've  been  thinking,"  began  Kitty,  after  a  silence,  during 
which  the  three  ladies  had  been  preoccupied  with  the  same 
thoughts.  "  Ought  not  Sergei  Ivanovitch  to  be  warned  that 
Varenka  has  had  a  first  love  ?  " 

"  You  imagine  that  all  men  attach  as  much  importance  to 
that  as  your  husband,"  said  Dolly.  "  I  am  convinced  that 
the  remembrance  of  Vronsky  torments  him  still !  " 

"  It  does,"  said  Kitty,  with  a  pensive  look. 

"  Why  should  that  disquiet  him?"  asked  the  princess,  dis- 
posed to  resent  the  inference  that  her  maternal  watchfulness 
seemed  to  be  called  in  question.  "  Vronsky  did  make  love 
to  you  ;  but  what  young  girl  escapes  that?" 

"How  fortunate  for  Kitty  that  Anna  appeared  upon  the 
scene,"  said  Dolly;  "and  how  the  rdles  are  changed! 
Anna  was  happy  then,  while  Kitty  thought  herself  to  be 
pitied.  I've  often  thought  of  it." 

"It  is  quite  useless  to  think  of  that  heartless  woman, " 


556  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

exclaimed  the   princess,  who  was   not  resigned   to   having 
Levin  for  her  son-in-law  instead  of  Vronsky. 

"  Yes,  indeed;  and  as  for  me,  I  do  not  wish  to  think  of 
her  at  all." 

"  Whom  do  you  wish  not  to  think  about?"  asked  Levin, 
appearing  upon  the  terrace.  No  one  answered,  and  he  did 
not  repeat  his  question. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disturb  your  t£te-d,-tete ,"  said  he,  vexed  to 
find  that  he  had  interrupted  a  conversation  which  they  were 
unwilling  to  continue  in  his  presence ;  and  for  a  second  he 
found  himself  in  sympathy  with  the  old  servant,  furious  at 
having  to  submit  to  the  dominion  of  the  Shcherbatskys. 

Nevertheless,  he  approached  Kitty  with  a  smile. 

liNu!  Are  you  coming  to  meet  the  children?  I  have 
ordered  the  horses.  Will  you  join  us,  Princess?" 
•  Levin  could  not  bring  himself  to  call  the  princess  "  Ma- 
man,"  as  his  brothers-in-law  did,  although  he  loved  and 
respected  her  ;  it  seemed  to  him  like  disloyalty  to  the  memory 
of  his  own  mother.  This  fancy  annoyed  the  princess. 

"Then  I  will  walk,"  said  Kitty,  rising  to  take  her  hus- 
band's arm. 

"  JVw/  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna,  are  your  preserves  success- 
ful? Is  the  new  method  good?"  asked  Levin,  smiling  at 
the  housekeeper  in  his  desire  to  cheer  her. 

"Perhaps  they're  good;  but,  in  my  opinion,  much  over- 
done." 

"At  least  it  will  prevent  their  spoiling,  Agafya  Mikha'i- 
lovna,"  said  Kitty,  divining  her  husband's  intention.  "  And 
you  know  that  there  is  no  more  in  the  ice-house.  As  for 
your  spiced  meats,  mamma  assures  me  that  she  has  never 
eaten  any  better,"  she  added,  adjusting,  with  a  smile,  the 
housekeeper's  loosened  neckerchief. 

"Do  not  try  to  console  me,  baruina,"  replied  Agafya 
Mikhaflovna,  giving  Kitty  a  look  of  increased  sadness.  "To 
see  you  with  him  is  enough  to  content  me." 

This  familiar  way  of  speaking  of  her  master  touched  Kitty. 

"  Come  and  show  us  the  best  places  to  find  mushrooms." 

The  old  woman  raised  her  head,  smiling.  The  smile 
seemed  to  say,  "One  would  gladly  guard  you  from  all 
hatred,  if  it  were  possible." 

"  Follow  my  advice,  and  put  over  each  pot  of  jelly  a 
round  piece  of  paper  soaked  in  rum,  and  you  will  not  need 
ice  in  order  to  preserve  them,"  said  the  princess. 


ANNA  KARtfNINA.  557 


III. 

KITTY  had  observed  the  momentary  discontent  which  had 
vividly  betrayed  itself  in  her  husband's  face,  and  she  was 
very  glad  to  have  a  moment  alone  with  him.  They  set  out 
along  the  dusty  road  quite  bestrewn  with  corn  and  grain, 
and  Levin  quickly  forgot  his  painful  disquietude  in  the  pure 
and  ever  fresh  pleasure  which  his  dear  wife's  presence  gave 
him.  Without  having  anything  especially  to  say  to  her,  he 
yet  longed  to  hear  Kitty's  voice,  to  see  her  eyes,  to  which 
her  peculiar  condition  lent  an  expression  unusually  sweet 
and  serious.  "  Lean  on  me  ;  it  will  tire  you  less." 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  be  alone  with  you  for  a  minute  !  I  love 
my  family,  but  yet  I  miss  our  winter  evenings,  when  we  two 
were  alone  together.  Do  you  know  what  we  were  talking 
about  when  you  came  ?  " 

"  About  jellies? " 

"Yes;  but  about  marriage  proposals,  too;  about  Sergei 
and  Varenka.  Have  you  noticed  them?  What  do  you 
think  of  it?"  added  she,  turning  towards  her  husband  the 
better  to  watch  his  face. 

" 1  don't  know  what  to  think.  Sergei  has  always  been  a 
marvel  to  me.  You  know  he  loved  a  young  girl  once,  and 
she  died ;  it  is  one  of  my  childish  memories.  Since  then  I 
believe  he  ignores  the  existence  of  women." 

"But  — Varenka?" 

"Perhaps  —  I  do  not  know.  Sergei  is  too  pure  a  man. 
He  has  no  life  but  the  spiritual "  — 

"You  mean  that  he  is  incapable  of  falling  in  love,"  said 
she,  expressing  her  husband's  thought  in  her  own  way. 

"  I  do  not  say  that,  but  he  has  no  weak  points,  and  I 
envy  him  that,  in  spite  of  my  happiness.  He  does  not  live 
for  himself ;  it  is  duty  which  guides  him,  and  so  he  has  a 
right  to  be  serene  and  well  satisfied." 

"And  you?  Why  should  you  be  dissatisfied  with  your- 
self ?  "  she  asked  with  a  smile. 

She  knew  that  her  husband's  extreme  admiration  for 
Serge"!  Ivanovitch  and  his  discouragement  about  himself 
were  connected  with  a  vivid  realization  of  his  own  happiness 
and  a  constant  desire  to  grow  better. 

"  I  am  too  happy.  I  have  nothing  on  earth  to  wish  for, 
except  perhaps  that  you  should  never  go  wrong ;  and  when  I 


558  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

compare  myself  with  others,  especiallj*  with  my  brother,  I 
am  conscious  of  all  my  inferiority." 

"  But  aren't  you  always  thinking  about  your  future,  about 
your  farming,  about  your  book?" 

"  Yes ;  superficially,  as  of  a  task  of  which  I  am  trying  to 
rid  myself.  Ah,  if  1  could  love  my  duty  as  I  love  you  !  It 
is  you  who  are  to  blame." 

"Would  you  exchange  with  Sergei, — love  nothing  but 
your  duty  and  the  general  welfare  of  mankind  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed.  The  fact  is,  I  am  too  happy  to  reason 
clearly.  So  you  think  the  proposal  will  take  place  to-day, 
do  you?"  he  asked,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "Ah,  here 
comes  the  wagonette  to  meet  us." 

"Kitty,  you  haven't  fatigued  yourself?"  cried  the  princess. 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world,  mamma." 

They  continued  walking. 

IV. 

VARENKA  seemed  very  charming  to  Sergei  Ivanovitch  to-day. 
As  he  walked  beside  her  there  came  back  to  him  all  that  he 
had  heard  of  her  past  life,  and  all  the  goodness  and  amiability 
which  he  had  himself  discovered  in  her.  A  strange  feeling 
stole  into  his  heart  —  a  feeling  experienced  only  once  before, 
long  ago  in  his  first  youth  ;  and  the  joy  which  the  }'oung  girl's 
presence  caused  him  was  so  keen  that,  as  he  put  into  her 
basket  a  huge  mushroom  which  he  had  just  found,  their  eyes 
met  with  a  too  expressive  look. 

"  I'm  going  to  hunt  mushrooms  on  my  own  account,"  he 
said,  fearing  that  he  should  yield  like  a  child  to  the  delight 
of  the  moment ;  "  for  I  see  my  efforts  are  not  appreciated." 

"  Why  should  I  resist?  "  he  thought,  as  he  left  the  boun- 
dary line  of  the  woods  and  was  lost  to  view  among  the  trees  ; 
and  there,  as  he  lit  his  cigar,  he  gave  himself  up  to  his 
thoughts.  "  The  affection  I  have  for  her  has  no  passion  in 
it.  It  seems  to  me  it  is  a  mutual  inclination  which  would  not 
fetter  my  life  in  the  least.  My  only  serious  objection  to  mar- 
riage is  the  promise  I  made  myself  when  Marie  died,  to  remain 
faithful  to  her  memory." 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  was  well  aware  that  this  objection  related 
only  to  thnt  poetical  rMe  which  he  played  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world.  No  woman,  no  young  girl,  could  answer  better  to  all 
that  he  sought  for  in  the  one  he  should  marry.  She  had  the 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  559 

charm  of  youth  without  childishness ;  was  accustomed  to 
society  without  wishing  to  shine  in  it;  possessed  a  lofty  re- 
ligion based  upon  serious  conviction.  Moreover,  she  was 
poor  and  without  family,  and  would  not,  therefore,  like  Kitty, 
impose  upon  her  husband  a  numerous  relationship.  And  this 
young  girl  loved  him.  Modest  as  he  was,  he  could  not  avoid 
seeing  it.  The  difference  in  age  need  be  no  obstacle.  Hud 
not  Varenka  herself  once  said  that  it  was  only  in  Russia  that 
a  man  of  fifty  was  considered  old  ;  in  France  that  dans  la 
force  de  I'age  was  considered  the  vigor  of  life?  Then  at 
forty  one  must  be  imjeune  homme  [a  young  man]. 

When  he  caught  sight  of  Varenka's  agile,  graceful  figure 
between  the  old  birch  trees,  his  heart  beat  joyously ;  and  as 
he  tossed  away  his  cigar  he  went  to  meet  the  young  girl, 
determined  to  offer  himself  to  her. 

V. 

"  VARVARA  ANDREVNA,  when  I  was  very  young  I  made  for 
nryself  an  ideal  of  the  woman  whom  I  should  love,  and  whom 
I  should  be  very  happy  to  call  niy  —  wife.  My  life  has 
passed  till  now  without  finding  her.  You  alone  realize  my 
dream.  I  love  you  and  offer  you  my  hand."  With  these 
words  in  his  heart,  Serge"!  Ivanovitch  looked  at  Varenka  as 
she  knelt  on  the  grass  within  ten  steps  of  him,  defending  a 
mushroom  from  the  attacks  of  Grisha,  to  save  it  for  little 
Maslia. 

"  This  way,  this  way;  here  are  quantities,  little  one,"  she 
called  in  her  charming,  ringing  voice.  She  did  not  rise 
when  she  saw  Koznuishef  approaching,  but  her  whole  being 
expressed  her  joy  at  seeing  him. 

"•  Did  you  find  any?"  she  asked,  turning  her  sweet  face 
towards  him  with  a  smile. 

"  Not  any  at  all,"  he  answered.  After  pointing  out  the 
best  places  to  the  children,  she  rose  and  joined  Serge" i  Ivauo- 
vitch.  They  walked  a  few  steps  in  silence.  Varenka,  stifle.d 
with  emotion,  suspected  what  Koznuishef  had  in  mind.  Sud- 
denly, though  not  really  in  the  mood  for  talking,  she  said 
almost  involuntarily,  — 

"•  If  you  have  not  found  any,  it  is  because  there  are  never 
as  many  mushrooms  in  the  woods  as  along  the  edge." 

Koznuishef  sighed  without  answering.  It  displeased  him 
because  she  spoke  about  trifles.  They  continued  walking, 


560  ANNA   KARENINA. 

going  further  and  further  from  the  children.  The  moment 
was  propitious  for  coining  to  an  understanding  ;  and,  as  Sergei 
Ivanovitch  observed  the  young  girl's  disturbed  manner  and 
downcast  eyes,  he  felt  that  he  should  wrong  her  if  he  kept 
silence.  He  made  an  effort  to  recall  his  recent  thoughts  on 
the  subject  of  marriage  ;  but  instead  of  the  speech  which  he 
had  prepared,  he  asked,  — 

'•  What  is  the  difference  between  a  toadstool  and  a  mush- 
room ?  " 

Varenka's  lips  trembled  as  she  answered,  — 

"  The  only  difference  is  in  the  foot."  Both  of  them  felt 
that  this  was  the  end  of  it.  The  words  which  might  have 
united  them  were  not  spoken,  and  the  violent  emotion  which 
had  stirred  them  died  little  by  little  away. 

"  The  foot  of  the  mushroom  reminds  one  of  a  black  beard 
badly  shaved,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch  calmly. 

"Quite  true,"  answered  Varenka,  smiling.  Then  their  walk 
took  involuntarily  the  direction  of  the  children.  Varenka  was 
puzzled  and  hurt,  and  yet  relieved.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  men- 
tally reviewed  his  arguments  in  favor  of  marriage  and  found 
them  mistaken.  He  could  not  be  unfaithful  to  Marie's 
memory. 

"  Gently,  children,  gently,"  cried  Levin,  as  the  children 
sprang  towards  Kitty  with  shouts  of  glee. 

Behind  the  children  came  Sergei  Ivanovitch  and  Varenka. 
Kitty  did  not  need  to  question  them.  She  knew  by  their 
calm  and  slightly  mortified  manner,  that  the  hope  which  she 
had  been  nursing  would  not  be  realized. 

"  That  will  not  happen,"  she  said  to  her  husband  as  they 
went  in. 

VI. 

THE  group  reassembled  on  the  terrace,  while  the  children 
took  their  supper.  The  consciousness  that  an  important 
event  had  occurred,  although  it  was  a  negative  one,  weighed 
upon  every  one,  and  in  order  to  cover  the  general  embarrass- 
ment, they  talked  with  a  forced  animation.  Sergei  Ivano- 
vitch and  Varenka  seemed  like  a  couple  of  students  who 
had  failed  in  their  examinations.  Levin  and  Kitty,  more  in 
love  than  ever  with  one  another,  felt  guilty  in  their  happi- 
ness, as  if  it  were  an  impolite  comment  upon  the  unskilful- 
ness  of  those  who  did  not  know  how  to  be  happy.  Stepan 


AXNA   KAKENIXA.  5ol 

Arkadvevitch  and,  perhaps,  the  old  prince  were  expected 
by  the  e veiling  train. 

"•Take  my  word  for  it,  Alexandre  will  not  come,"  said  the 
princess. 

"  He  pretends  to  think  it  wrong  to  disturb  the  freedom  of 
young  married  couples." 

"Papa  has  quite  abandoned  us  ;  thanks  to  this  principle, 
we  are  not  to  see  him  any  more.  And  why  does  he  look 
upon  us  as  young  married  people,  when  we  are  already  an 
ancient  couple?  " 

The  sound  of  a  carriage  in  the  aveuue  interrupted  the 
conversation. 

"It's  Stiva ! "  exclaimed  Levin.  "And  1  see  some  one 
beside  him  ;  that  must  be  papa.  Grisha,  run  and  meet 
them." 

But  Levin  was  mistaken.  Stepan  Arkady  evitch 's  com- 
panion was  a  fine,  tall  fellow,  named  Vasenka  Veslovsky. 
He  wore  a  Scotch  cap,  with  long  floating  ribbons,  and  was  a 
distant  relative  of  the  Shcherbatskys,  one  of  the  ornaments 
of  society  at  Moscow  and  Petersburg.  Veslovsky  was  not 
in  the  least  disconcerted  by  the  surprise  which  his  appearance 
caused  ;  he  greeted  Levin  gayly,  reminded  him  that  they  had 
met  before,  and  lifted  Grisha  into  the  carriage.  Levin  fol- 
lowed on  foot.  He  was  put  out  at  the  non-arrival  of  the 
prince,  whom  he  liked,  and  still  more  so  at  the  intrusion  of 
this  stranger,  whose  presence  was  quite  unnecessary.  This 
unpleasant  impression  increased  when  he  saw  Vasenka  gal- 
lantly kiss  Kitty's  hand,  before  all  the  people  assembled  on 
the  door-steps. 

"Your  wife  and  I  are  cousins,  and  old  acquaintances," 
said  the  young  man,  pressing  Levin's  hand  a  second  time. 

••^V«/"  said  Oblonsky,  greeting  his  mother-in-law,  and 
kissing  his  wife  and  children.  "  Is  there  any  game?  We've 
come  with  murderous  intent,  —  Veslovsky  and  I.  How  well 
you  look,  D61inka  !  "  said  he,  kissing  his  wife's  hand,  and 
caressing  her  affectionately.  Levin,  who  had  a  few  moments 
before  been  so  happy,  witnessed  this  scene  with  indignation. 

••  Whom  did  those  same  lips  kiss  yesterday?"  thought  he  ; 
"  and  why  is  Dolly  so  pleased,  when  she  does  not  believe  he 
loves  her  any  longer?" 

He  was  vexed  at  the  gracious  reception  given  Veslov- 
sky by  the  princess.  The  politeness  of  Sergei  Ivanovitch 
towards  Oblonsky  struck  him  as  hypocritical,  for  he  knew 


562  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

that  his  brother  had  no  very  high  esteem  for  Stepan  Arka- 
dy evitdb. 

As  for  Varenka,  she  seemed  to  him  like  some  demure 
nun,  capable  of  making  herself  pleasing  for  the  sake  of  a 
stranger,  though  she  did  not  dream  of  marriage.  But  his 
displeasure  was  at  its  height  when  he  saw  Kitty  return  the 
smile  of  this  fellow,  who  apparently  considered  his  visit  as 
a  piece  of  good  fortune  for  every  one.  The  smile  would 
confirm  him  in  this  absurd  conceit. 

When  they  all  went  chatting  into  the  house,  he  seized  the 
moment  to  escape.  Kitty  had  observed  her  husband's  ill- 
humor,  and  ran  after  him  ;  but  he  shook  her  off,  declaring 
that  he  had  business  to  attend  to  at  the  office,  and  disap- 
peared. His  occupations  had  never  seemed  more  important 
to  him  than  they  did  to-day. 

VII. 

ON  being  summoned  to  supper,  Levin  went  into  the  house 
again  ;  he  found  Kitty  and  Agafya  Mikha'ilovna  standing  on 
the  stairs,  consulting  over  what  wines  to  put  on  the  table. 

"Z)a/     Why  all  this  fuss  ?     Have  things  just  as  usual." 

"  No  ;  Stiva  doesn't  drink  "  — 

"What  is  the  matter,  Kostia?"  asked  Kitty,  trying  to 
detain  him ;  but,  instead  of  listening,  he  went  his  way, 
taking  great  strides  to  the  parlor.  When  there,  he  was 
impatient  to  take  part  in  the  conversation. 

"Well,  shall  we  go  hunting  to-morrow?"  asked  Stepan 
Arkady  evitch. 

"  Do  let  us  go,"  said  Veslovsky,  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 
with  one  of  his  legs  under  him. 

"  Very  willingly ;  have  you  had  any  hunting  this  year?" 
answered  Levin,  with  a  false  cordiality  which  Kitty  under- 
stood. "  I  doubt  if  we  find  any  woodcock,  but  snipe  are 
plenty.  We  shall  have  to  start  early  ;  shall  you  mind  that, 
Stiva  ?  " 

"No,  indeed;  I'm  ready  to  stay  awake  all  night  if  you 
like." 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  you  are  quite  capable  of  it,"  said  Dolly,  with 
some  irony,  "  and  also  of  keeping  other  people  awake.  I'm 
not  going  to  eat  any  supper  to-night,  —  I'm  going  to  bed." 

"  No,  Dolly,"  exclaimed  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  going  and 
taking  a  seat  near  his  wife. 


ANNA    KARtiNINA.  563 

"  I've  so  many  things  to  tell  you  about.  Do  you  know  — 
Veslovsky  has  seen  Anna?  She  lives  only  seventy  versts 
[46.41  miles]  away  from  here  ;  he  is  going  there  when  he 
leaves  us,  and  I  intend  to  go,  too." 

"Have  you  really  been  to  Anna  Arkady evna's ?"  asked 
Dolly  of  Vasenka,  who  had  come  up  to  the  ladies,  and  had 
seated  himself  beside  Kitty  at  the  supper-table. 

Levin  was  talking  with  the  princess  and  Varenka,  but  he 
observed  that  this  little  group  was  full  of  animation..  He 
imagined  that  they  were  talking  confidentially,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  that  his  wife's  face  expressed  a  deep  tenderness  as 
she  looked  into  Vasenka's  pleasing  face. 

"  Their  establishment  is  superb,"  Veslovsky  went  on  viva- 
ciously, "  and  it  is  delightful  to  be  with  them.  It  isn't  my 
place  to  judge  them." 

"  What  are  their  plans?" 

"  To  pass  the  winter  in  Moscow,  I  believe." 

"  It  will  be  charming  to  meet^there  again.  "When  shall 
you  be  there  ?  "  Oblonsky  asked  the  young  man. 

"  In  July." 

"  And  you?  "  he  asked  his  wife. 

"  When  you  have  gone  away,  I  shall  go  alone  ;  that  will 
not  disturb  'any  one,  and  I  am  determined  to  see  Anna. 
She  is  a  woman  whom  I  both  pity  and  love." 

"  Just  the  thing,"  answered  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "  And 
you,  Kitty? " 

'•I?  Why  should  I  go  to  see  her?"  said  Kitty  ;  and  the 
question  made  her  blush  with  vexation. 

"Do  you  know  Anna  Arkadyevna?"  asked  Veslovsky; 
"  she  is  a  very  fascinating  woman." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Kitty,  blushing  still  more,  and  with  a 
glance  at  her  husband  she  rose  to  join  him.  "So  you  are 
going  hunting  to-morrow,  are  you?"  she  asked  him. 

Levin's  jealousy  at  seeing  Kitty  blush  was  boundless,  and 
her  question  seemed  to  him  simply  a  proof  of  her  interest  in 
the  young  man.  She  was  evidently  in  love  with  him,  and 
wished  to  have  him  pleasantly  entertained. 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered,  in  a  voice  so  constrained  that 
he  himself  was  horrified  at  it. 

"I  wish  you  would  pass  the  day  with  us  to-morrow; 
Dolly  has  hardly  seen  her  husband  yet." 

It  was  in  this  way  that  Levin  translated  these  words. 
"  Do  not  separate  me  from  him.  You  may  go ;  but  let  me 
enjoy  the  enchanting  presence  of  this  attractive  stranger." 


564  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

Vasenka,  not  suspecting  the  effect  his  presence  had  pro- 
duced, rose  from  the  table  and  approached  Kitty  with  an 
affectionate  smile. 

"  How  does  he  dare  to  look  at  her  in  that  way  ?  "  thought 
Levin,  pale  with  anger. 

"•We  are  to  go  hunting  to-morrow,  are  we  not?"  asked 
Vdsenka  innocently,  and  again  he  seated  himself  across  a 
chair  with  one  leg  under  him,  as  his  habit  was.  Levin  was 
wild  with  jealousy,  and  already  pictured  himself  in  the  posi- 
tion of  a  deceived  husband,  whom  his  wife  and  her  lover 
were  plotting  to  send  away,  that  they  might  enjoy  each 
other  in  peace. 

Nevertheless,  he  talked  with  Veslovsky,  asked  him  about 
his  hunting*  gear,  and  promised  him  with  a  cordial  air  that 
their  hunting  party  should  be  made  up  for  the  succeeding 
day.  The  old  princess  came  near  putting  an  end  to  her  son- 
in-law's  torture  by  advising  Kitty  to  go  to  bed,  when,  as  if 
expressly  to  exasperate  l^evin,  Vasenka  tried  to  kiss  her 
hand  as  he  bade  her  good  night. 

"•  That  is  not  the  custom  with  us,"  she  said  brusquely, 
drawing  away  her  hand. 

How  had  she  given  this  }"oung  man  the  right  to  take  such 
liberties  with  her?  and  how  could  she  be  so  awkward  in 
showing  her  disapprobation  ? 

Oblonsky  had  been  made  good-humored  by  several  glasses 
of  good  wine,  and  a  poetic  mood  came  upon  him. 

"Why  should  you  go  to  bed  this  lovely  evening,  Kitty? 
See,  the  moon  is  rising ;  it  is  just  the  time  for  serenading. 
Vasenka  has  a  charming  voice,  and  he  has  brought  two  new 
ballads  with  him  which  he  and  Varvara  Audrevna  might  sing 
tons." 

For  a  long  time  after  they  had  all  left,  Levin  sat  obsti- 
nately silent  in  an  easy-chair,  while  the  voices  of  his  guests 
singing  the  new  ballads  reached  him  from  the  garden. 
After  vainly  questioning  him  as  to  the  cause  of  his  anno}'- 
ance,  Kitty  finished  by  smilingly  asking  him  whether  Ves- 
lovsky were  its  cause. 

This  question  loosened  his  tongue.  He  stood  up  in  front 
of  his  wife  with  his  eyes  flashing  under  his  contracted  brows, 
and  his  hands  pressed  against  his  chest  as  if  to  keep  down 
his  anger,  and  in  a  trembling  voice  and  with  a  manner  which 
would  have  been  harsh  if  his  face  had  not  expressed  such 
keen  suffering,  he  said,  "Don't  think  me  jealous;  the  word 


ANNA   KARENINA.  565 

is  disgusting  to  me.  Could  I  be  jealous  and  at  the  same 
time  believe  in  you?  But  1  am  hurt,  humiliated,  that  anyone 
dares  to  look  at  you  so." 

"  Why,  how  did  he  look  at  me?"  asked  Kitty,  honestly 
trying  to  recall  the  smallest  incidents  of  the  evening.  She 
had  thought  Vasenka's  attitude  at  supper  a  little  familiar,  but 
she  dared  not  acknowledge  it.  '•  You  know  you  are  the  only 
person  in  the  world  for  me.  But  you  would  not  wish  me  to 
shut  myself  up  away  from  everybody?" 

She  had  been  wounded  by  this  jealousy  of  his,  which 
spoiled  even  the  most  innocent  pleasures;  but  she  was  ready 
now  to  renounce  them  all  for  the  sake  of  quieting  him. 

"  Try  to  understand  how  absurd  my  position  is.  This 
fellow  is  my  guest,  and  if  it  were  not  for  this  silly  gallantry, 
and  his  habit  of  sitting  on  his  leg,  I  should  have  nothing  to 
reproach  him  with  ;  he  certainly  thinks  himself  irreproach- 
able. But  I  am  obliged  to  seem  polite,  and  "  — 

"  But,  Kostia,  you  exaggerate  things."  interrupted  Kitty, 
glad  at  heart  to  see  how  passionately  he  loved  her. 

"And  \rhen  you  are  an  object  of  worship  to  me,  and  we 
are  so  happy,  that  this  trashy  fellow  should  have  the  right  — 
after  all,  he  may  not  be  a  trashy  fellow  ;  but  why  should  our 
happiness  be  at  his  mercy  ?  " 

'•  Listen,  Kostia ;  I  believe  I  know  what  has  offended 
you." 

"  Nu  da?  nu  da?"  asked  Levin,  excitedly. 

"You  watched  us  at  supper" —  and  she  recounted  the 
mysterious  conversation  which  had  aroused  his  suspicions. 

"  Katya,"  cried  he,  observing  his  wife's  pale,  excited  face, 
"  I  am  tiring  you  !  GolubcJiik,  forgive  me  !  I  am  a  burden 
to  you,  Katya  !  I  am  a  fool !  How  could  I  torture  myself 
over  such  a  trifle  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you." 

"For  me?  for  me?  How  absurd  I  am;  and  to  punish 
myself,  I  intend  to  heap  the  most  irresistible  favors  upon 
this  fellow,"  said  Levin,  kissing  his  wife's  hands.  "You'll 
see ! " 

VIII. 

Two  hunting-wagons  were  waiting  at  the  door  the  next 
morning  before  the  ladies  were  awake.  Laska  followed  the 
coachman,  all  alive  with  excitement,  quite  understanding 


566  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

what  was  on  foot,  and  strongly  disapproving  the  huntsmen's 
tardiness.  Vasenka  Veslovsky  was  the  first  to  appear,  in  a 
green  blouse,  with  a  belt  of  fragrant  Russia  leather,  shod  in 
handsome  new  boots,  his  Scotch  cap,  with  ribbons,  on  his 
head,  and  an  old-fashioned  English  gun  in  his  hand. 

Laska  sprang  towards  him  for  a  greeting,  and  to  ask  in 
her  way  if  the  others  were  coming  ;  but,  finding  that  she  was 
not  understood,  she  returned  to  her  post,  and  waited  with 
bent  head  and  pricked-up  ears.  At  last  the  door  opened 
noisily,  and  let  out  Krak,  the  pointer,  followed  by  his  master, 
Stepan  Arkady ev itch,  with  gun  in  hand  and  cigar  in  mouth. 

"  Down,  down,  Krak  !"  exclaimed  Oblonsky,  gayly,  trying 
to  avoid  the  dog's  paws,  who,  in  her  joy,  caught  at  his  gun 
and  game-pouch.  He  had  on  great  boots,  old  trousers,  a 
short  overcoat,  and  *  crushed  hat ;  to  make  up  for  this, 
his  gun  was  of  the  most  modern  pattern,  and  his  game-bag 
as  well  as  his  cartridge-box  defied  all  criticism.  Vasenka 
saw  that  the  height  of  elegance  for  a  huntsman  lay  in  sub- 
ordinating everything  to  the  hunting  apparatus.  He  made 
up  his  mind  to  profit  by  this  example  next  time,  and  looked 
admiringly  at  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  Nu!   Our  host  is  late,"  remarked  he. 

"  He  has  a  young  wife,"  said  Oblonsky,  smiling. 

"  And  what  a  charming  wife  !  He  must  have  gone  in  to 
see  her  again,  for  I  saw  him  all  ready  to  start." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  right.  Levin  had  gone  back  to 
Kitty  to  make  her  say  over  again  that  she  forgave  him  for 
his  absurd  behavior  of  the  evening  before.  Kitty  was 
obliged  to  declare  that  she  did  not  begrudge  his  two  days' 
absence,  and  promised  to  send  news  of  her  health  the  next 
day.  This  journey  was  not  pleasing  to  the  young  wife,  but 
she  resigned  herself  to  it  cheerfully  when  she  saw  her  hus- 
band's interest  and  animation. 

"A  thousand  pardons,  gentlemen  !"  cried  Levin,  hurrying 
towards  his  companions.  "  Has  the  breakfast  been  put  up? 
Nu  !  all  is  ready.  —  Down,  Laska  !  charge  !  " 

He  was  scarcely  in  the  carriage  before  he  was  waylaid  by 
the  cowherd,  who  wished  to  consult  him  about  the  heifers ; 
then  by  the  carpenter,  whose  erroneous  ideas  as  to  the  con- 
struction of  a  staircase  he  must  correct. 

At  last  they  were  off,  and  Levin  was  so  glad  to  be  free 
from  his  domestic  cares  that  he  would  have  asked  nothing 
better  than  to  enjoy  his  happy  mood  in  silence.  Should 


AXNA    KAEJSNIXA.  567 

they  find  any  game?  Would  Laska  be  equal  to  Krak? 
bliould  he  do  himself  credit  as  huntsman  before  this  stran- 
ger? Oblonsky  was  occupied  with  similar  thoughts.  Ves- 
lovsky  was  the  only  voluble  one  ;  and  as  Levin  listened  to  his 
prattle,  he  reproached  himself  for  his  injustice  of  the  previous 
evening.  He  was  a  very  good  fellow,  after  all,  and  one 
could  scarcely  reproach  him,  except  for  his  conceit  In  sup- 
posing that  carefully  kept  nails  and  elegant  clothes  were 
proofs  of  incontestable  superiority.  Beyond  this,  he  was 
unaffected,  gay,  and  well  educated,  speaking  French  and 
English  admirably,  and  when  he  was  younger,  Levin  would 
have  made  a  friend  of  him. 

They  had  scarcely  gone  three  versts  when  Veslovsky 
missed  his  pocket-book  and  his  cigars.  There  were  three 
hundred  and  seventy  rubles  in  the  pocket-book,  and  he 
wanted  to  make  sure  that  he  had  forgotten  and  left  it  at  the 
house. 

u  Let  me  £ake  your  Cossack  racer  and  gallop  back  to  the 
house  ;  I  can  go  and  come  back  immediately." 

'•Do  not  trouble  yourself,"  replied  Levin  ;  "my  coachman 
can  easily  do  the  errand." 

The  coachman  was  sent  in  search  of  the  pocket-book,  and 
Levin  took  the  reins. 

IX. 

"  Nul  what's  our  line  of  march?  "  asked  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch. 

"  This  is  it.  We  will  go  directly  to  the  marshes  at  Gvoz- 
def,  about  twenty  versts  from  here,  where  we  are  sure  to 
find  some  game.  As  we  shall  arrive  there  towards  evening, 
we  can  take  advantage  of  the  coolness  to  do  some  shooting. 
We  will  sleep  at  a  peasant's  hut,  and  to-morrow  we  will 
undertake  the  great  marsh." 

"  Is  there  nothing  on  the  way?" 

"Yes  ;  there  are  two  good  places,  but  it  is  scarcely  worth 
while.  It's  too  warm." 

Levin  intended  to  reserve  the  hunting  places  near  the 
house  for  his  own  particular  use ;  but  nothing  escaped 
Oblonsky's  experienced  eye,  and  as  they  were  passing  a 
small  marsh,  he  exchiim^d,  "  Shall  we  not  try  this?" 

"Oh,  yes  ;  let's  stop,  Levin,"  begged  Vasenka ;  and  Levin 
could  not  well  refuse. 


568  ANNA  KARtfNINA. 

The  dogs  darted  forward  instantly,  and  Levin  stayed 
behind  to  watch  the  horses.  Veslovsky  killed  a  moor-hen 
and  a  lapwing,  which  was  all  that  the}'  found,  and  Levin  felt 
somewhat  consoled.  As  the  huntsmen  entered  the  carriages, 
Vasenka  awkwardly  held  his  gun  and  his  game  in  one  hand, 
when  a  shot  went  off,  and  the  horses  plunged.  It  was  Ves- 
lovsky *S  gun,  which  fortunately  wounded  no  one,  the  shot 
burying  itself  in  the  ground.  He  was  so  filled  with  remorse 
that  no  one  had  the  heart  to  grumble  ;  but  his  remorse  soon 
gave  place  to  an  absurd  gayety  as  he  recalled  their  panic  and 
the  bump  Levin  gave  himself  with  his  gun. 

In  spite  of  their  host's  remonstrances,  they  alighted  again 
at  the  next  swamp.  This  time,  after  he  had  brought  down 
a  woodcock,  Vasenka  took  pity  on  Levin,  and  offered  to  take 
his  place  with  the  carriages.  Levin  did  not  refuse,  and 
Laska,  growling  at  the  injustice  of  fate,  sprang  with  a 
bound  towards  the  haunts  of  the  game,  with  a  gravity  which 
did  not  seem  to  disturb  the  insignificant  marsh-birds.  She 
circled  about  several  times,  sniffing  the  ground,  and  then 
stopped  suddenly,  while  Levin,  with  a  beating  heart,  fol- 
lowed cautiously. 

A  woodcock  rose  ;  he  had  already  aimed,  when  the  sound 
of  steps  advancing  heavily  through  the  water,  and  a  shout 
from  Veslovsky,  made  him  turn  just  as  he  fired.  The  shot 
had  missed.  To  his  amazement,  he  beheld  the  carriages  and 
horses  half  buried  in  the  mud.  Veslovsky  had  driven  them 
off  the  highroad,  into  the  marsh,  in  order  to  help  in  the  hunt. 

"  The  devil  take  him  !  "  murmured  Levin. 

"What  are  you  going  in  so  far  for?"  he  asked  the  young 
man,  driby,  as  he  hailed  the  coachman  to  come  and  help  him 
disengage  the  horses.  His  companions  had  not  only  spoiled 
his  shot,  and  nearly  drowned  his  horses,  but  neither  of  them 
offered  to  help  him  unharness  and  lead  the  animals  to  a  dry 
place.  It  is  true  that  neither  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  nor  Ves- 
lovsky knew  anything  about  the  art  of  harnessing  ;  but  the 
author  of  the  mischief  did  his  best  to  drag  out  the  wagon- 
ette, and  iu  his  zeal  tore  his  sleeve.  This  good  will  pleased 
Levin,  and  he  began  to  reproach  himself  for  being  out  of 
humor.  In  order  to  hide  the  fact  that  he  was  so,  he  gave 
orders  to  have  the  breakfast  unpacked. 

"  Son  appetit  —  bonne  conscience  !  " 

"This  chicken  goes  to  the  right  spot,"  said  Vasenka,  in 
French,  serenely  devouring  his  second. 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  569 

"  Nu!  Our  misfortunes  are  over,  friends.  After  this  we 
shall  succeed  in  everything  ;  but  as  a  punishment  for  my 
sins,  I  am  going  to  act  as  coachman,  and  drive  you." 

4>  No,  no  !  I  am  a  genuine  Automedon  !  "  Levin  protested, 
fearing  for  the  safety  of  the  horses  ;  but  he  was  obliged  to 
give  Veslovsky  his  own  way  ;  and  the  young  man's  contagious 
jollity,  as  he  sang  ballads  and  imitated  an  Englishman  driv- 
ing a  four-in-hand,  at  last  succeeded  in  winning  Levin. 
They  reached  the  Gvozdef  marshes,  laughing  and  joking. 

X. 

As  they  neared  the  end  of  their  journey,  Levin  and  Ob- 
lonsky  were  possessed  by  the  same  thought,  —  that  of  won- 
dering how  they  might  rid  themselves  of  their  inconvenient 
companion. 

'•  What  a  fine  marsh,  and  I  see  the  hawks!"  exclaimed 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  as,  after  a  furious  drive,  they  reached 
the  place,  just  in  the  heat  of  the  day.  "  Where  hawks  are, 
there's  sure  to  be  game." 

"The  marsh  begins  at  this  island,"  explained  Levin,  ex- 
amining his  gun,  and  pointing  out  a  deep  place  in  the  vast 
wet  plain,  trodden  down  in  places. 

'•'  We'll  separate  into  two  camps,  if  you  like,  and  take  the 
direction  of  that  group  of  trees ;  from  there  we  can  go  on 
to  the  mill.  I've  killed  as  many  as  seventeen  woodcock  in 
this  place." 

"•  Very  well ;  you  two  take  the  right,"  said  Stepan  Arka- 
dyevitch, indifferently.  "  I'll  take  the  left." 

"  All  right,"  said  Vasenka.     "  Nu!    Come  on,  come  on  !  " 

Levin  was  obliged  to  accept  this  arrangement ;  but  after 
the  accidental  discharge  of  the  gun,  he  was  suspicious  of 
his  companion,  and  advised  him  to  keep  in  front. 

"  I  won't  trouble  you.  Don't  either  of  you  trouble  about 
me,"  said  Veslovsky. 

The  dogs  separated,  came  nearer,  then  started  off,  each 
following  his  own  scent.  Levin  understood  Laska's  be- 
havior, and  thought  he  alreadv  heard  the  crv  of  a  woodcock. 

"Pif,  paf!" 

It  was  Vasenka,  firing  at  some  ducks.  Half  a  dozen 
woodcock  rose,  one  after  the  other,  and  Oblonsky  seized 
the  opportunity  to  hit  two  of  them.  Levin  was  less  fortu- 
nate. Stepan  Arkadyevitch  picked  up  his  game  with  an  air 


570  ANNA   RARE  MSA. 

of  satisfaction,  and  went  off  to  the  left,  whistling  to  his 
dog,  while  Levin  reloaded  his  gun,  leaving  Veslovsky  lo 
fire  at  random. 

Always  when  Levin  failed  of  hitting  the  first  time,  he  easily 
lost  his  self-control,  and  spoiled  the  hunt.  This  was  what 
happened  to-day.  The  woodcock  were  so  abundant  that 
nothing  would  have  been  easier  than  to  retrieve  a  first'  mis- 
take ;  but  the  further  he  went,  the  more  disturbed  he  was. 

Laska  watched  the  huntsmen  with  an  air  of  doubt  and  re- 
proach, and  hunted  indifferently.  In  the  distance  ever}'  one 
of  Oblonsky's  shots  seemed  to  tell,  and  they  could  hear  his 
voice  shouting,  "  Bring  it  here,  Krak  !  "  while,  upon  examin- 
ing Levin's  pouch  after  they  had  engaged  a  room  at  a  muzhik's 
hut,  in  the  midst  of  the  marsh,  it  was  found  to  contain  only 
three  small  fowl,  one  of  which  was  Vasenka's. 

"  Hi,  hunters  !  "  exclaimed  one  of  the  peasants  who  were 
seated  near  an  unyoked  cart,  and  holding  a  bottle  of  brandy, 
which  glistened  in  the  sun.  "  Come  and  have  a  drink." 

"  Qu'est  ce  qu'ils  disent?"  asked  Veslovsky. 

"  They  offer  us  some  vodka  to  drink.  They  are  true  chil- 
dren of  the  steppe.  I  would  accept,"  added  Levin,  not 
without  a  secret  hope  that  Veslovsky  would  fall  a  victim  to 
the  vodka. 

"  But  why  should  the}1  treat  us?" 

"Probably  in  honor  of  some  festival.  Come  ;  it  will  amuse 
you." 

"  Allans!  c'est  curieux!  " 

"  You  can  find  your  way  to  the  mill  afterwards,"  said  Le- 
vin, delighted  to  see  Veslovsky  disappear,  bent  double,  hitting 
his  tired  feet  against  the  clods  of  earth  and  languidly  carry- 
ing his  gun  in  his  heavy  arms. 

"  You  come,  too,"  shouted  the  peasant  to  Levin. 

A  glass  of  brandy  would  not  have  come  amiss  to  Levin, 
who  was  tired  and  could  hardly  lift  his  feet  from  the  marshy 
soil ;  but  he  caught  sight  of  Laska  pointing,  and  forgot  his 
fatigue  in  his  impatience  to  join  her.  Vasenka's  presence 
had  brought  him  bad  luck,  he  thought;  and  yet  now  that  he 
was  gone,  Levin  was  as  unfortunate  as  ever,  although  game 
was  plenty.  When  he  reached  the  spot  where  he  had  agreed 
to  meet  Oblonsky,  he  had  five  insignificant  birds  in  his 
game-bag. 

Krak,  with  a  triumphant  air,  went  before  his  master ; 
behind  the  dog  came  Stepan  Arkady evitch,  walking  heavily, 


ANXA   KARtiNINA.  571 

and   covered   with    perspiration,    but   with    an   overflowing 
game-bag. 

kk  What  a  marsh  !  "  exclaimed  he.  "  Veslovsky  must  haA-e 
bored  you.  It's  impossible  to  hunt  in  couples  with  a  dog," 
added  he,  to  soften  the  effect  of^his  triumph. 

XI. 

LEVIN  and  Oblonsky  found  Veslovsky  already  established 
at  the  izba  where  they  had  engaged  supper.  He  was  sitting 
on  a  bench,  and  clutching  it  with  both  hands,  while  a  soldier, 
the  brother  of  the  hostess,  drew  off  his  muddy  boots. 

"  I've  just  come,"  said  he,  with  his  contagious  laugh. 
"  Us  out  et£  charmants!  Imagine  it ;  after  they  had  made 
me  eat  and  drink,  they  refused  to  take  any  pay.  And  what 
bread  !  what  vodka  !  deUdeux  !  " 

"Why  should  you  offer  money?"  remarked  the  soldier, 
at  last  succeeding  in  pulling  off  the  boots  ;  "  they  don't  keep 
brandy  to  sell." 

The  huntsmen  were  not  alarmed  at  the  dirtiness  of  the 
72&a,  which  their  boots  and  their  dogs'  paws  had  covered 
with  black  mud  ;  and  they  supped  with  an  appetite  only 
known  when  limiting  ;  then,  after  washing  themselves,  they 
went  to  rest  in  a  hay-loft,  where  the  coachman  had  prepared 
their  beds. 

It  grew  dark,  but  they  could  not  get  to  sleep ;  and 
Vasenka's  raptures  over  the  hospitality  of  the  peasants,  the 
pleasant  odor  of  the  hay,  and  the  intelligence  of  the  dogs, 
which  lay  at  their  feef,  kept  them  awake. 

Oblonsky  gave  an  account  of  a  hunt  at  which  he  had  been 
present  the  year  before,  at  the  place  of  Malthus,  a  railroad 
speculator  worth  millions. 

He  described  the  immense  game  preserves,  which  Malthus 
owned  in  the  department  of  Tver,  the  dog-carts,  and  how 
wngons  were  provided  for  the  huntsmen  ;  and  a  great  break- 
fast tent  was  carried  out  into  the  marshes. 

"  How  odious  such  people  are  !  "  said  Levin,  raising  him- 
self up  on  his  straw  bed.  "  Their  luxury  is  revolting. 
They  get  rich  just  as  the  brandy-farmers  used  to  do,  and 
deride  public  enterprise,  knowing  that  their  ill-gotten  money 
will  make  them  respected." 

"  That's  very  true,"  exclaimed  Veslovsky.  "Oblonsky 
accents  their  invitations  for  good-fellowship's  sake  ;  but  many 
say  Oblousky  is  visiting" — 


572  A  SNA   K  ARE  NINA. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Oblonsky.  "If  I  visit  them, 
it  is  because  I  look  upon  them  as  rich  merchants  or  pro- 
prietors, who  owe  their  wealth  to  their  own  work  and 
intelligence." 

'  •  Da  !  but  what  do  you  call  work  ?  Is  it  to  get  a  contract 
and  sub-let  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly  it  is,  in  the  sense  that  if  no  one  took  the 
trouble  to  do  it,  we  shouldn't  have  any  railroads." 

"Can  you  compare  such  work  with  that  of  a  man  who 
labors,  or  a  scholar  who  studies?" 

"  No  ;  but  none  the  less  it  has  its  results,  — railroads.  It 
is  true,  you  do  not  approve  of  them." 

"  That  is  another  question  ;  but  I  maintain  that  when  the 
compensation  is  dispi'oportionate  to  the  labor,  it  is  dishon- 
est. These  fortunes  are  scandalous.  Le  roi  est  mort!  vive 
leroi!  we've  given  up  farms  ;  railroads  and  banks  supplant 
them." 

"All  that  may  be  true;  but  who  can  trace  the  exact 
limits  of  justice  and  injustice?  For  example,  why  is  my 
remuneration  greater  than  that  of  my  chief  clerk,  who  knows 
the  business  better  than  I  do?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Nu!  Why  do  you  make,  say,  five  thousand  rubles  where, 
with  more  work,  our  host,  the  muzhik  here,  makes  fifty? 
and  why  shouldn't  Malthus  make  more  than  his  overseers  ? 
I  cannot  help  believing  that  in  reality  the  hatred  inspired  by 
these  millionaires  comes  simply  from  envy." 

"You  go  too  far,"  interrupted  Veslovsky  ;  "it  is  not 
envy,  but  there  is  something  unfair  in  this  state  of  things." 

"  You  are  right,"  replied  Levin,  "  in  calling  my  five  thou- 
sand rubles  income  unjust.  It  troubles  me." 

"  Give  your  land  to  this  muzhik  ;  he  would  not  refuse  it," 
said  Oblonsky,  who  had  been  inclined  for  some  time  to  make 
pointed  remarks  to  his  brother-in-law.  Since  they  had  formed 
parts  of  the  same  family,  their  relations  had  taken  on  a 
tinge  of  hostility. 

"  I  don't  give  it,  because  I  have  no  right  to  dispossess  my- 
self of  it.  I  have  a  family,  and  I  recognize  duties  towards  it." 

"  If  you  look  upon  this  inequality  of  fortune  as  an  injus- 
tice, it  is  your  duty  to  put  an  end  to  it." 

"  I  strive  towards  that  end  by  doing  nothing  to  increase 
my  foilune." 

"  What  a  paradox !  " 


AXXA    KABJ2XINA.  573 

"Yes  ;  that  savors  of  sophistry,"  added  Veslovsky.  "Hello  ! 
khozydin,"  shouted  he  to  a  muzhik  who  just  then  opened  the 
door,  making  it  creak  ou  its  hinges.  "Aren't  you  asleep 
yet,  either?  " 

"Oh,  no;  but  I  thought  you  gentlemen  were  asleep.  I 
want  to  get  a  hook.  Will  she  bite?"  said  he,  pointing  to  the 
dogs  and  slipping  into  the  barn. 

••  But  where  do  you  sleep?  " 

"  We  are  on  night  duty." 

"  Ach!  AY  hat  a  night!"  exclaimed  Vasenka,  catching  a 
glimpse  of  the  house  and  the  unharnessed  wagons  in  the 
moonlight,  through  the  door.  "  Where  do  those  women's 
voices  come  from  ?  " 

'•  It's  the  girls  outside." 

"  Let's  go  out  and  walk,  Oblonsky ;  we  can  never  go  to 
sleep." 

"It  is  pretty  comfortable  here." 

"  Nu!  .I'm  going  alone,  then,"  said  Vasenka,  rising  and 
hastily  dressing.  "  Good-bye,  friends.  If  I  find  it  enter- 
taining, I'll  call  you.  You've  been  too  good  as  hunting- 
companions,  to  be  forgotten." 

"  He's  a  good  fellow,  isn't  he?  "  said  Oblonsky  to  Levin 
when  Vasenka  and  the  peasant  were  gone. 

"  Yes,  capital,"  answered  Levin,  following  the  thread  of 
his  own  thoughts.  How  did  it  happen  that  two  sincere  and 
intelligent  men  could  accuse  him  of  sophistry,  when  he  had 
expressed  himself  as  clearly  as  possible? 

k'  Whatever  a  man  does,"  resumed  Oblonsky,  "  he  ought 
to  take  his  stand  and  recognize  either  that  society  is  right,  or 
that  it  enjoys  unfair  privileges,  and,  in  the  latter  case,  do  as 
I  do,- — get  what  pleasure  out  of  it  he  can." 

"  No ;  if  you  felt  the  iniquity  of  those  privileges  as  I  do, 
you  could  not  do  so  ;  at  least,  I  could  not." 

"After  all,  why  shouldn't  we  go  out  for  a  turn?"  said 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  tired  of  the  conversation.  "  Let's 
go,  for  we  cannot  sleep." 

"  No  ;   I  shall  stay  here." 

"  Is  that  from  principle,  too?"  said  Oblonsk3",  groping  for 
his  hat. 

••  No  ;  but  what  should  I  do  out  there?  " 

"  You  are  in  a  bad  case,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  hav- 
ing found  what  he  was  looking  for. 

"Wbjrao?" 


574  ANNA   KAEEN1NA. 

"  Because  you  are  spoiling  your  wile.  I've  noticed  the 
importance  you  attach  to  having  her  permission  when  you  are 
going  away  for  a  few  days.  That  may  be  charmingly  idyllic, 
but  it  can't  last.  A  man  must  maintain  his  independence  ; 
he  has  his  own  affairs,"  said  Oblonsky,  opening  the  door. 

'•  What  are  they?  running  after  farm  girls?  " 

"Yes,  if  it  amuses  him.  fa  ne  lire  pas  ct  consequence. 
My  wife  would  not  object  greatly  to  it,  and  the  main  thing  is 
to  respsct  the  sanctuary  of  home.  But  it's  not  necessary  to 
tie  one's  hands." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Levin  drily,  as  he  turned  over.  "I 
warn  you  that  I  shall  leave  at  sunrise  to-morrow  morning, 
without  waking  any  one." 

"Messieurs,  venez  vite!"  called  Vasenka  to  them. 
"  Charmante!  I  discovered  her,  a  genuine  Gretchen,"  added 
he,  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur.  Levin  pretended  to  be 
asleep,  and  let  them  go.  He  lay  a  long  time  without  being 
able  to  sleep.  He  could  hear  the  horses  munching  their  hay  ; 
the  muzhik  setting  out  with  his  son  to  watch  the  animals  in 
the  pasture  ;  then  the  soldier  going  to  bed  in  the  hay  on  the 
other  side  of  the  barn  with  his  little  nephew.  The  child 
asked  questions,  in  a  low  voice,  about  the  dogs,  who  seemed 
like  terrible  beasts  to  him.  The  uncle  finally  quieted  him, 
and  the  silence  was  only  broken  b}-  his  snores. 

Levin,  influenced  by  his  conversation  with  Oblonsky, 
thought  over  the  coming  day,  and  said  to  himself,  "I  will  get 
up  at  sunrise  ;  I  will  keep  cool ;  there  are  plenty  of  wood- 
cock. When  I  get  back  I  may  find  a  word  from  Kitty. 
Da !  may  be  Stiva  is  right :  I  am  not  manly  ;  I  am  effemi- 
nate towards  her  !  What  is  to  be  done  about  it?  " 

As  he  was  falling  asleep  he  heard  his  companions  come  in, 
and  opened  his  eyes  an  instant  to  see  them,  illumined  by  the 
moon,  through  the  half-open  door. 

"To-morrow  at  sunrise,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  and  fell 
asleep. 

XTI. 

THE  next  morning  it  was  impossible  to  awake  Vasenka,  as 
he  lay  upon  his  stomach,  sleeping  with  clenched  fists.  Ob- 
lonsky also  refused  to  get  up ;  and  even  Laska,  lying  in  a 
round  ball  in  the  hay,  stretched  her  hind  legs  lazily,  before 
she  could  make  up  her  mind  to  follow  her  master.  Levin 


yl.V-V.-l    KARtfXIXA.  575 

put  on  his  boots,  took  his  gun,  and  cautiously  went  out. 
The  coachmen  were  bleeping  near  the  carriages,  the  horses 
were  asleep  ;  it  was  scarcely  daylight. 

"  You  are  up  early,"  said  the  friendly  old  mistress  of  the 
hut,  who  was  coming  out  of  the  door,  accosting  him  famil- 
iarly as  an  old  acquaintance. 

kk  I'm  going  out  to  shoot,  T6tuslika  [auntie].  "Which 
is  the  way  to  the  marsh  ?  " 

••  Follow  the  path  behind  the  barns,"  said  the  old  woman, 
and  she  herself  went  with  him,  to  show  him  the  way. 

Laska  ran  ahead,  and  Levin  followed  cheerily,  question- 
ing the  sky,  intending  to  reach  the  marsh  before  the  sun  was 
up.  The  moon,  which  was  still  visible  when  he  left  the 
barn,  grew  more  and  more  dim  •  the  morning  star  could 
scarcely  be  seen,  and  the  points  along  the  horizon,  which 
were  at  first  indistinct,  became  more  and  more  definite  ;  they 
were  hay-mows.  The  least  sound  could  be  distinctly  heard 
in  the  absolute  quiet ;  and  a  bee  which  whizzed  past  Levin's 
ear,  seemed  to  hiss  like  a  cannon-ball. 

The  white  vapors  rising  from  the  marsh  looked  like  islands  ; 
bunches  of  cytisus  indicated  the  beginning  of  the  great 
marsh.  Along  its  border  lay  men  and  children,  wrapped  in 
kaftans,  and  sleeping  soundly,  after  their  vigil.  The  horses 
were  already  grazing  and  clanking  their  chains.  The  sight 
of  Laska  startled  them,  and  they  ran  to  the  water's  edge, 
paddling  with  their  tied  feet. 

The  dog  glanced  at  his  master,  and  gave  them  a  quizzical 
look. 

After  he  had  passed  the  sleeping  peasants,  Levin  exam- 
ined his  gun-case,  and  whistled  to  Laska,  to  tell  her  the  hunt 
was  about  to  begin.  She  instantly  started,  joyous  and  full 
of  importance,  snuffing  the  soft  earth, 'with  its  well-known 
odors,  searching  for  that  special  smell  of  the  bird  which 
touched  her  more  than  any  other.  The  better  to  scent  the 
direction  of  the  game,  she  started  off  to  the  leeward,  bound- 
ing gently,  that  she  might  the  more  easily  come  to  a  sudden 
stop.  Presently  her  pace  slackened,  for  she  no  longer  fol- 
lowed a  trail ;  she  was  on  the  game  itself.  There  was  plenty 
of  it,  but  where?  Her  master's  voice  came  from  the  op- 
posite side,  —  u  Laska,  here!"  She  stopped,  hesitating, 
started  to  obey,  but  went  back  to  the  place  which  had 
attracted  her ;  she  circled  about  to  find  the  exact  spot,  and 
then,  sure  of  her  game,  stopped,  trembling  with  excitement, 


576  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

before  a  little  hill.  Her  short  legs  prevented  her  from  see- 
ing, but  her  instinct  did  not  deceive  her.  She  could  scarcely 
breathe,  in  the  jo\"  of  her  anticipation  ;  she  stood  rnotioii- 
less,  and  with  half-open  mouth,  looking  at  her  master,  with- 
out daring  to  turn  her  head.  It  seemed  to  her  he  was  slow 
to  come ;  but  he  was,  in  reality,  running,  hitting  the  clods 
of  earth,  and  with  a  look  which  seemed  to  her  terrible.  For, 
with  a  huntsman's  superstition,  he  feared,  above  everything, 
to  lose  his  first  shot.  As  he  approached,  he  saw  what  Laska 
could  only  scent,  —  a  woodcock  hidden  between  two  hil- 
locks. 

"  Charge  !  "  cried  he. 

"•  Na  !  Isn't  he  mistaken  ?  "  thought  Laska.  "  I  smell  it, 
but  I  do  not  see  it ;  if  I  stir,  I  shall  not  know  where  to  find 
them." 

But  a  nudge  from  her  master  encouraged  her,  and  she 
bounded  impulsively  forward,  no  longer  conscious  of  what 
she  was  doing. 

A  woodcock  rose  immediately,  and  they  could  hear  the 
whir  of  its  wings.  The  bird  fell,  beating  the  moist  ground 
with  its  white  breast ;  a  second  woodcock  was  destined  to 
the  same  fate. 

"Well  done,  Lasotchka!"  said  Levin,  putting  the  game, 
warm,  into  his  bag. 

The  sun  was  up  as  Levin  went  forward  into  the  marsh ; 
the  moon  looked  like  a  mere  white  speck  in  the  sky ;  all  the 
stars  had  disappeared.  The  pools  of  water  glittered  with  the 
roseate  reflection  of  the  sun  ;  the  grass  took  an  amber  tint ; 
the  marsh  birds  bestirred  themselves  amongst  the  bushes  ; 
some  vultures  perched  on  the  piles  of  corn,  surveying  their 
domain  with  an  air  of  discontent,  and  the  jackdaws  flew 
about  the  fields.  The  smoke  from  the  gun  made  a  white 
track  like  milk  along  the  green  grass.  One  of  the  sleepers 
had  already  put  on  his  kaftan,  and  some  children  were  lead- 
ing horses  along  the  road. 

'•Diddenka "  [little  uncle],  shouted  one  of  the  boys  to 
Levin.  '•  there  were  some  ducks  here  yesterday." 

Levin  experienced  a  feeling  of  delight  as  he  killed  three 
more  woodcocks  before  the  child,  who  was  watching  him. 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  577 


XIII. 

THE  superstition  of  hunters,  that  if  the  first  shot  brings 
down  bird  or  beast,  the  field  will  be  good,  was  justified. 

Tired  and  hungry,  but  delighted,  Levin  returned  about 
ten  o'clock,  after  a  run  of  thirty  versts,  having  brought  down 
nineteen  woodcock  and  one  duck,  which,  for  want  of  room 
in  his  game-bag,  he  hung  at  his  belt.  His  companions 
had  been  long  up  ;  and  after  waiting  till  they  were  famished, 
they  had  eaten  breakfast. 

"  Hold  on,  hold  on  !  I  know  there  are  nineteen,"  cried 
Levin,  counting  for  the  second  time  his  grouse  and  snipe, 
with  their  bloodstained  plumage  and  their  drooping  heads 
all  laid  one  over  the  other,  so  different  from  what  they  were 
on  the  marsh. 

The  count  was  verified,  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  envy 
was  delightful  to  Levin.  To  crown  his  happiness,  he  found 
a  letter  from  Kitty. 

"  I  am  perfectly  well  and  happy,"  she  wi-ote  ;  "  and  if  you 
fear  lest  I  shall  not  be  sufficiently  cared  for,  it  will  re-assure 
37ou  to  learn  that  Marya  Vlasievna  is  here.  [She  was  a 
midwife,  a  new  and  very  important  personage  in  the 
family.]  She  came  over  to  see  me.  She  thinks  I  am  won- 
derfully well,  and  we  shall  keep  her  till  you  get  back.  We 
are  all  well  and  happy,  and  you  need  not  hasten  to  come 
back  if  you  are  enjoying  yourself  and  the  hunting  is  good." 

These  two  pleasures — his  successful  hunt  and  the  letter 
from  his  wife  —  were  so  great,  that  they  effaced  from  Levin's 
mind  two  less  agreeable  incidents.  The  first  was  the  fact 
that  his  fast  horse,  who  had  been  overworked  the  evening 
before,  refused  to  eat  and  was  tired  out.  The  coachman  said 
that  she  was  used  up.  "  They  abused  her  last  evening, 
Konstantin  Dmitritch,"  said  he.  "The  idea!  they  drove 
her  ten  versts  at  full  speed  !  " 

The  second  and  more  serious  unpleasantness  was  the  abso- 
lute disappearance  of  all  the  abundant  provisions  which 
Kitty  had  put  up  for  them  at  starting.  Weary  and  hungry, 
Levin  actually  saw  certain  little  pdtes  so  visibly  in  his 
mind's  eye  that  when  he  returned  he  smelled  the  odor  and 
tasted  them  in  his  mouth  ;  bxit  they  had  all  disappeared,  as 
had  nlso  the  chicken  and  the  meat,  and  Laska  was  cracking 
the  bones. 


578  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

"  Nu!  talk  of  appetites,"  said  Stepan  Arkady evitch,  nod- 
ding at  Vasenka  Veslovsky  ;  "I  cannot  complain  of  mine, 
but  this  young  man's  goes  ahead  of  it." 

"  Nu!  what  shall  I  do?"  cried  Levin,  glowering  at  Ves- 
lovsky. "Filipp,  give  me  some  cold  beef." 

"Beef's  all  eat,  and  the  dogs  have  got  the  bones!" 
replied  Filipp. 

Levin  was  so  irritated  that  he  could  not  help  exclaiming, 
"I  should  think  you  might  have  left  something  forme!" 
and  he  felt  like  crying. 

"  Then  cook  me  a  grouse."  he  said,  with  trembling  voice, 
to  Filipp,  not  daring  to  look  at  Vasenka,  "  and  bring  me 
some  milk."  But  after  he  drank  his  milk  he  was  mortified 
because  he  had  shown  his  disappointment  so  plainly  and 
before  a  stranger,  and  he  began  to  laugh  at  himself  for  his 
anger. 

In  the  afternoon  they  went  out  into  the  fields  again,  and 
Veslovsky  shot  several  birds,  and  at  night  they  went  home. 

They  were  as  gay  on  their  return  as  they  had  been  while 
going.  Veslovsky  now  sang  songs,  and  now  told  of  his  ad- 
ventures with  the  muzhiks  who  gave  him  his  vodka  and  bade 
him  drink  it  down  quick.  Then  he  told  his  adventures  in  the 
court-yard  with  one  of  the  girls  and  a  muzhik,  who  asked 
him,  "Are  you  married  or  not?"  and  when  he  said  no, 
replied,  "  Don't  be  offended  with  a  stranger,  but  above  all 
things  make  haste  and  get  a  wife."  These  words  greatly 
amused  Veslovsky. 

"Well,  on  the  whole,  I  am  awfully  glad  we  went,  aren't 
you,  Levin?" 

"  Very  glad,"  replied  Levin  very  sincerely,  and  he  was 
happy  because  he  no  longer  felt  that  animosity  which  he  had 
felt  at  home  towards  Vasenka  Veslovsky  ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  really  conceived  a  friendship  for  him. 

XIV. 

ABOUT  ten  oclock  the  next  morning,  after  inspecting  the 
farm,  Levin  knocked  at  Vasenka' s  door. 

"  Entrez,"  said  Veslovsky.  "  Excuse  me,  but  I  am  just 
finishing  my  ablutions." 

"Do  not  trouble  yourself,"  said  Levin,  and  he  sat  down 
by  the  window.  "  Have  you  slept  well?" 

"  Like  the  dead.     Is  it  a  good  day  for  hunting?" 


.lA'A'.l    KAHL\\IXA.  579 

"  What  do  you  drink,  tea  or  coffee?" 

"Neither;  I  always  go  down  to  breakfast;  I  am  morti- 
fied at  being  so  late.  The  ladies,  I  suppose,  are  already 
up?  Spleudid  time  for  a  ride!  You  must  show  me  your 
horses." 

After  walking  around  the  garden,  examining  the  stable, 
and  performing  a  few  gymnastic  exercises  together,  Levin 
and  his  guest  came  back  to  the  house  and  went  into  the 
parlor. 

'•  We  had  splendid  sport,"  said  Veslovsky,  approaching 
Kitty,  who  was  sitting  near  the  samovar.  "  What  a  pity 
that  ladies  are  deprived  of  this  pleasure  !  " 

"  Nu!  Of  course  he  must  have  something  to  say  to  the 
lady  of  the  house,"  thought  Levin.  And  again  he  began  to 
feel  annoyance  at  the  young  man's  lordly  air. 

The  princess  was  sitting  on  the  other  side  of  the  table  and 
talking  with  Marya  Vlasievna  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 
She  called  Levin  to  her  and  began  to  explain  to  him  the 
necessity  of  having  her  daughter  settled  at  Moscow  at  the 
time  of  her  confinement.  Nothing  anno3~ed  Levin  so  much 
as  this  commonplace  way  of  anticipating  an  event  so  extraor- 
dinary as  the  birth  of  a  son,  for  he  felt  sure  that  this  would 
be  a  son.  He  would  not  admit  that  this  uncertain  happiness, 
surrounded  for  him  by  so  much  mystery,  should  be  discussed 
as  a  common  occurrence  by  women  who  could  count  the  time 
of  the  event  on  their  fingers.  Their  talk,  as  well  as  the 
articles  of  the  infant  wardrobe,  wounded  him,  and  he  refused 
to  listen,  as  he  had  before,  when  he  ought  to  have  been  think- 
ing of  the  preparations  for  his  marriage. 

The  princess  did  not  understand  these  prejudices,  and  this 
apparent  indifference  seemed  to  her  like  dullness  and  careless- 
ness. She  would  not  let  him  alone.  She  had  just  been 
charging  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to  look  up  a  suite  of  rooms, 
and  insisted  that  Konstantin  should  give  his  advice. 

"Do  as  you  think  best,  Princess  ;  I* understand  nothing 
about  the  matter." 

"  But  you  will  have  to  decide  just  when  you  will  go  to 
Moscow." 

"  I  don't  know  ;  what  I  do  know  is  that  millions  of  children 
are  born  outside  of  Moscow,  and  doctors  —  and  all  that"  — 

"  Da !     In  that  case  "  — 

"  Let  Kitty  do  as  she  pleases  about  it." 

"It  is  impossible  to  speak  with  Kitty  about  it.     Do  you 


•580  A  XX A    Jf.<17?/?.V7V.l. 

think  I  want  to  frighten  her?  Only  this  spring  Natali  Golit- 
suin  died  in  confinement — her  second  child." 

"  I  shall  do  as  you  wish,"  repeated  Levin  angrily.  The 
princess  began  to  say  something  more  to  him,  but  he  was  not 
listening.  Though  his  conversation  with  the  princess  upset 
him,  he  was  not  angered  by  what  she  said,  but  by  what  he 
saw  at  the  samovar. 

'•  No  ;  that  can't  go  on,"  thought  he,  now  and  then  casting 
a  glance  towards  Vasenka,  who  was  bending  over  Kitty,  with 
a  Mattering  smile,  and  looking  at  his  wife's  disturbed  and 
blushing  face.  There  was  something  improper  in  Veslovsky's 
attitude,  his  smile,  his  eyes.  So,  too,  Kitty's  action  and 
appearance  seemed  to  him  unbecoming,  and  again  the  light 
flashed  in  his  eves.  And  again,  as  happened  two  days  before, 
he  felt  himself  suddenly,  without  the  least  warning,  precipi- 
tated from  the  height  of  happiness,  contentment,  and  dignity, 
into  an  abyss  of  hatred  and  confusion.  Again  they  seemed 
to  him,  each  and  all,  his  enemies.  "  Do  just  as  you  please, 
Princess,"  said  he  again,  turning  round. 

"Heavy  is  the  cap  of  Monomakh,"  said  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  in  jest,  referring,  not  to  Levin's  conversation  with  the 
princess,  but  to  Levin's  agitated  face,  which  amused  him. 
"  How  late  you  are,  Dolly  !  " 

All  arose  to  greet  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  who  came  in. 
Vasenka  also  arose,  but  only  for  a  moment ;  and  bowing 
slightly  with  the  natural  politeness  of  young  men  towards 
ladies,  he  resumed  his  conversation  with  some  humorous 
remark. 

"  Masha  did  not  sleep  well,  and  she  wore  me  out,"  answered 
Darya  Aleksandrovna. 

The  conversation  between  Vasenka  and  Kitty  turned  again 
upon  Anna,  and  the  question  whether  it  was  possible  to  love 
under  these  illegal  conditions.  This  talk  displeased  the 
young  wife  ;  but  she^was  too  inexperienced  and  too  naive  to 
know  how  to  put  an  end  to  it.  Consequently,  to  hide  the 
torture  which  the  young  man's  somewhat  persecuting  atten- 
tion caused  her,  she  wanted  to  put  an  end  to  it,  but  she  did  not 
know  how  to  accomplish  it.  Fear  of  her  husband's  jealousy 
added  to  her  distress,  for  she  knew  beforehand  that  he  would 
misinterpret  her  every  word  and  gesture. 

kt  Where  are  you  going,  Kostia?"  she  asked,  with  a  guilty 
air,  as  her  husband,  with  deliberate  steps,  went  by  her  on 
his  way  out  of  the  room. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  581 

This  guilty  confusion  confirmed  his  suspicion  of  his  wife's 
hypocrisy.  %k  I  am  going  to  speak  to  a  machinist  who  came 
while  I  was  away,"  he  answered,  without  looking  at  her. 

He  had  got  down-stairs,  but  was  not  yet  in  his  library, 
before  he  heard  Kitty's  well-known  footsteps  imprudently 
hurrying  after  him. 

'•What  is  it?  I  am  busy,"  said  he,  curtly. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Kitty,  coming  in,  and  speaking  to  the 
German  machinist;  "I  wish  to  say  a  few  words  to  my 
husband." 

The  mechanic  was  about  to  leave  when  Levin  stopped  him. 

"  Don't  disturb  yourself." 

"  I  don't  want  to  lose  the  three  o'clock  train,"  remarked 
the  German. 

Without  answering  him,  Levin  went  out  into  the  corridor 
with  his  wife. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  say  to  me?"  he  asked  in  French. 

He  did  not  look  at  her  face,  and  did  not  want  to  see  how 
it  was  contracted  with  mental  suffering. 

"I  —  I  wanted  to  say  to  you  that  it  is  impossible  to  live 
so ;  it  is  torture,"  murmured  she. 

"  There  is  some  one  there  at  the  cupboard,"  he  replied 
angrily.  "  Don't  make  a  scene." 

"  Let  us  go  in  here  then." 

Kitty  wanted  to  go  into  the  next  room,  but  there  the 
English  governess  was  teaching  Tania. 

"  Then  let  us  go  into  the  garden." 

In  the  garden  they  ran  across  a  vmizhik  who  was  weeding 
a  path.  And  now  no  longer  thinking  that  the  muzhik  would 
see  her  tearful  face  or  his  anger,  not  thinking  that  they  were 
in  sight  of  people  passing,  she  went  with  swift  steps  straight 
on,  feeling  that  she  must  have  an  explanation  with  him,  and 
find  some  lonely  spot  where  they  could  talk,  and  free  them- 
selves from  this  misery  that  was  oppressing  them  both. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  live  so.  It  is  torture.  I  suffer.  You 
suffer.  Why  is  it?"  she  said,  when  at  last  they  reached  a 
bench  standing  by  itself  in  the  corner  of  the  linden  alley. 

"But  tell  me  one  thing:  was  not  his  manner  indecent, 
improper,  horribly  insulting?"  he  asked,  standing  in  front 
of  her  in  that  position,  with  his  fists  doubled  up  on  his 
chest,  that  he  had  taken  up  on  that  night  when  he  stood 
before  her. 

"It  was,"  said  she,  with  trembling  voice;  "but,  Kostia, 


582  ANNA   KARENINA. 

can't  you  see  that  I  am  not  to  blame  ?  I  wanted  3'esterday 
to  show  such  a  manner,  but  these  people  —  Why  did  he 
come?  How  happy  we  were!"  she  said,  choking  with  the 
sobs  that  shook  her  whole  body. 

The  gardener  saw  with  surprise  that  though  there  was 
nothing  especially  attractive  about  the  bench  where  they  had 
been  sitting,  yet  still  they  went  past  him  back  to  the  house 
with  peaceful,  shining  faces. 

XV. 

As  soon  as  his  wife  had  gone  to  her  room,  Levin  went  to 
seek  Doll}7.  Darya  Aleksaudrovua  also  was  in  a  state  of 
great  excitement.  She  was  pacing  up  and  down  her  chamber, 
and  scolding  little  Masha,  who  stood  in  a  corner,  crying. 

"  You  shall  stay  all  day  in  the  corner,  and  eat  dinner  alone, 
and  have  no  dolls,  and  no  new  dress,"  she  was  saying,  though 
she  did  not  know  why  she  was  punishing  the  child.  "  This 
is  a  naughty  little  girl,"  she  said  to  Levin  ;  "  where  does  she 
get  this  abominable  disposition?" 

"  Da!  what  has  she  done?"  asked  Levin,  annoyed  at  find- 
ing his  sister-in-law  in  such  a  state  when  he  wished  to  con- 
sult her. 

"  She  and  Grisha  went  into  the  raspberry  bush,  and 
there  —  but  I  can't  tell  you  what  she  did.  Thousand  times 
rather  have  Miss  Eliot !  This  governess  doesn't  look  after 
anything  —  a  perfect  machine.  Figurez  vous,  que  la  petite  — 
[Just  conceive,  that  the  little  one] .  And  she  related  Masha's 
misdeeds. 

"  I  don't  see  anything  very  bad  in  that.  It  is  only  a  piece 
of  childish  mischief." 

"  But  what  is  the  matter  with  you?  You  look  troubled. 
"What  has  happened  ?  "  asked  Dolly,  and  by  the  tone  of  her 
questions  Levin  perceived  that  it  would  be  easy  for  him  to 
say  what  he  had  in  his  mind  to  say. 

"  I  have  been  alone  in  the  garden  with  Kitty.  We  have 
just  had  a  quarrel  —  the  second  since  —  Stiva  came.  " 

Dolly  turned  her  penetrating  eyes  upon  him.  "  Nu!  Your 
hand  on  your  heart,"  he  said,  "  tell  me,  was  the  conduct,  not 
of  Kitty,  but  of  this  young  man,  anything  else  than  unpleas- 
ant, not  unpleasant,  but  intolerable,  insulting  even,  to  a 
husband?" 

"What  shall  I  say  to  you?  —  Stand  in  the  corner!"  said 


ANNA   KARENINA.  583 

she  to  Masha,  who  presumed  on  the  smile  on  her  mother's 
face.  "In  the  eyes  of  society  he  is  only  playing  a  young 
man's  part.  11  fait  la  cour  a  une  jeune  et  jolie  femme  [He 
is  paying  attention  to  a  young  wife],  and  her  husband,  as 
himself  a  gentleman  of  society,  should  be  pleased  with  his 
gallantries." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Levin  angrily;  "but  have  you  noticed  it?" 

"I  noticed  it,  of  course;  and  Stiva  said  after  tea,  4Je 
crois  que  Veslovsky  fait  un  petit  brin  de  cour  a  Kitty ' "  [I 
guess  Veslovsky  is  trying  to  flirt  with  Kitty]. 

"  Nu!  See  how  calm  I  am.  I  am  going  to  send  the  man 
away."  said  Levin. 

"Are  you  out  of  your  senses?"  cried  Dolly,  alarmed. 
"What  are  you  thinking  about,  Kostia?  —  Nu!  you  may 
go  now  to  Fanny,"  she  said  to  the  child. 

"  No  !  If  you  want,  I  will  speak  to  Stiva.  He  will  get  him 
to  leave.  He  can  say  we  are  expecting  company.  How- 
ever, it  is  not  our  house." 

"  No,  no  !    I  will  do  it  myself." 

"  You  will  quarrel." 

"  Xot  at  all,  I  shall  find  it  amusing,"  said  he,  with  a 
happier  light  shining  in  his  eyes.  *'Nu!  Dolly,  forgive  her; 
she  won't  do  it  again,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  little  criminal, 
who  had  not  gone  to  Fanny,  but  was  now  standing  beside 
her  mother  with  downcast  eyes. 

The  mother  looked  at  her.  The  child,  seeing  its  mother 
softening,  threw  itself  sobbing  into  her  arms,  and  Dolly  laid 
her  thin  hand  tenderly  on  its  head. 

"  Is  there  anything  in  common  between  us  and  that 
fellow?  "  thought  Levin,  and  he  turned  away  to  find  Vasenka. 

In  the  hall  he  ordered  the  carriage  to  be  made  ready. 

"The  springs  were  broken  yesterday,"  the  servant  answered. 

"  Then  bring  the  tarantds.  Only  be  quick  about  it.  Where 
is  the  guest?" 

"He  went  to  his  room." 

Vasenka  had  pulled  his  things  out  of  a  valise,  and  was 
trying  on  his  gaiters  in  preparation  for  a  ride  as  Levin  came 
in.  Either  there  was  something  strange  in  Levin's  expres- 
sion, or  Veslovsky  himself  was  conscious  that  ce  petit  brin 
de  cour  which  he  was  making  was  rather  out  of  place  in  this 
family  ;  but  at  all  events,  he  felt  as  uncomfortable  in  Levin's 
presence  as  it  is  possible  for  an  elegant  young  man  to  feel. 

"  Do  you  ride  in  gaiters?"  asked  Levin. 


584  ANNA   KARENINA. 

"  Yes  ;  it's  very  muddy,"  replied  Vasenka,  putting  up  one 
leg  on  a  chair,  and  struggling  with  the  bottom  button,  and 
smiling  with  genuine  good  humor. 

He  was  really  a  very  good-hearted  young  fellow,  and  Levin 
was  sorry  for  him  and  conscience-stricken  for  his  own  part 
when  he  saw  Vdsenka's  timidity  in  the  presence  of  the 
khozydin  [host]. 

On  the  table  lay  a  fragment  of  a  stick  which  they  had 
broken  that  morning  in  some  of  their  gymnastic  exercises. 
Levin  took  this  fragment  in  his  hand  and  whirled  it  round, 
not  knowing  how  to  begin, — 

"  I  wanted" —  He  stopped  for  a  moment ;  but  suddenly 
remembering  the  scene  with  Kitty,  he  went  on,  looking  him 
squarely  in  the  eye.  "I  have  had  the  horses  put  in  for 
you." 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  began  Vasenka,  in  surprise. 
"  Where  are  we  going?" 

"You  are  going  to  the  railway  station,"  said  Levin,  with 
a  frown,  and  breaking  off  the  end  of  the  stick. 

"  Are  you  going  away?     Has  anything  happened?" 

"  I  happen  to  be  expecting  company,"  Levin  went  on, 
breaking  off  pieces  of  his  stick  more  and  more  nervously. 
"  Or,  no,  I  am  not  expecting  any  one,  but  I  will  ask  you  to 
go  away.  Explain  my  lack  of  politeness  as  you  please." 

Vasenka  drew  himself  up  with  dignity,  — 

"  I  beg  you  to  explain  to  me  "  — 

"  I  will  not  explain,  and  you  will  be  wise  not  to  question 
me,"  Levin  said  slowly,  trying  to  remain  calm,  and  to  check 
the  tremulous  motions  of  his  face,  while  he  went  on  snapping 
off  bits  from  the  stick  he  held  in  his  hand.  Vasenka  watched 
his  movements  and  watched  the  tightening  muscles.  He  had 
tried  the  man's  strength  that  morning  at  the  gymnastic 
exercises.  He  found  Levin's  bearing  as  convincing  as  his 
words.  He  shrugged  his  shoulder,  smiled  a  scornful  smile, 
bowed,  and  said,  "  May  I  see  Oblonsky?" 

"  I  will  send  him  to  you,"  Levin  answered.  He  did  not 
mind  the  shrug.  "  What  else  could  he  do?"  he  thought. 

"There  is  no  sense  in  such  conduct!  It  is  perfectly 
absurd  !  "  cried  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  when  he  rejoined  Levin 
in  the  garden,  after  learning  from  Veslovsky  that  he  was  to 
be  driven  from  the  house.  "To  be  stung  by  such  a  fly! 
mais  c'est  ridicule,  mats  c'est  du  dernier  ridicule  of  this  young 
man  "  — 


.LYAT.4   KARBNINA.  585 

The  spot  where  the  fly  stung  Levin  was  still  so  sensitive, 
however,  that  Levin  cut  short  the  explanations  which  his 
brother-in-law  tried  to  give. 

'•  Don't  take  the  trouble  to  defend  the  young  man;  I  am 
sorry  both  for  you  and  for  him.  He  will  soon  console  him- 
self ;  but  my  wife  and  I  found  his  presence  unpleasant." 

'•  But  it  was  insulting  to  him.     Et  pais  c'est  ridicule." 

"  But  it  was  insulting  to  me  and  extremely  disagreeable. 
I  am  not  to  blame  towards  him,  and  I  can't  endure  him." 

'•  Nu!  I  did  not  expect  this  of  you.  On  pent  gtrejaloux, 
mais  tt  ce point  c'est  dernier  ridicule"  [One  may  be  jealous, 
but  to  that  degree  is  ridiculous] . 

Levin  turned  away.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  path, 
awaiting  his  guest's  departure. 

Soon  he  heard  the  rumbling  of  the  tarantds,  and  through 
the  trees  he  saw  Vasenka  riding  up  the  road,  sitting  on  the 
straw  (for  the  tarantds  had  no  seat),  the  ribbons  of  his  cap 
streaming  behind  his  head  as  the  cart  jolted  along. 

"What  now?"  thought  Levin  as  he  saw  a  servant  run 
from  the  house  and  stop  the  cart.  It  was  only  to  find  a  place 
for  the  machinist,  who  had  been  forgotten,  and  who  now  took 
his  seat,  with  a  low  bow,  beside  Vasenka. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  and  the  princess  were  indignant  at 
Levin's  conduct.  He  himself  felt  its  absurdity  keenly  ;  and 
yet,  as  he  considered  all  that  Kitty  and  he  had  suffered,  he 
said  to  himself  that  he  would  do  the  same  thing  again  when- 
ever there  should  be  a  similar  need.  In  the  evening  there 
came  over  him  again  a  kind  of  gayety  such  as  children  show 
when  their  punishment  is  at  an  end,  or  housekeepers  after  an 
irksome  state  party.  Everybody  felt  in  better  spirits,  and 
Dolly,  who  had  inherited  from  her  father  the  gift  of  humor, 
made  Vdrenka  laugh  till  she  cried,  by  telling  her  three  and 
four  times,  and  each  time  with  new  amusing  details,  how  she 
had  just  put  on,  in  honor  of  their  guest,  a  pair  of  ravishing 
little  new  boots,  and  was  going  into  the  drawing-room  when, 
at  that  very  minute,  the  rattle  of  an  old  carriage  drew  her  to 
the  window.  Who  was  in  this  old  tumble-down  waggon? 
Vasenka  himself !.  his  Scotch  cap,  his  fluttering  ribbons,  his 
romantic  airs,  and  his  gaiters,  seated  on  the  straw ! 

"If  only  a  carriage  had  been  given  him  !  But  no  !  Then 
I  hear  a  shout :  l  Hold  on  ! '  They  have  taken  pity  on 
him  ;  not  in  the  least;  I  look  and  see  a  fat  German,  —  and 
off  they  go  !  and  my  boots  were  wasted." 


586  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 


XVI. 

DARYA  ALEKSANDROVNA  fulfilled  her  intentions,  and  went 
to  see  Anna.  It  made  her  sister  very  angry,  aud  displeased 
her  husband.  Levin  was  indisposed  to  anything  like  a 
reconciliation  with  Vronsky,  but  she  wanted  to  prove  to  her 
that  her  affection  had  undergone  no  change.  The  little 
journey  that  she  had  planned  presented  some  difficulties.  In 
order  not  to  put  her  brother-in-law  to  inconvenience,  she 
sent  to  hire  horses  in  the  village.  When  Levin  heard  of 
this,  he  went  to  her  with  his  complaint,  — 

"  Why  should  you  suppose  I  do  not  wish  you  to  visit  the 
Vronskys?  And  then  if  I  did  not,  you  would  annoy  me 
more  by  using  other  horses  than  mine.  You  did  not  tell  me 
that  you  were  really  going.  I  have  horses  ;  and  if  you  don't 
want  to  offend  me,  you  must  use  mine." 

Dolly  finally  submitted,  and  on  the  appointed  day,  having 
arranged  for  a  change  of  horses  in  th*e  middle  of  the  journey, 
Levin  sent  her  off  with  four  horses,  under  the  protection  of 
his  bookkeeper,  whom,  for  greater  security,  he  had  seated 
beside  the  coachman  in  the  dress  of  a  footman.  The  carriage 
was  by  no  means  a  handsome  one,  but  it  was  well  adapted 
to  a  long  journey. 

Now  that  horses  were  necessary  both  for  the  princess  and 
other  members  of  the  famity,  it  was  rather  a  burden  on 
Levin  ;  but  by  the  laws  of  hospitality  he  could  not  let  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  hire  horses  outside  of  his  house  ;  and,  besides, 
he  knew  that  the  twent}"  rubles  which  it  would  cost  would  be  a 
very  serious  matter  for  her  ;  for  Darya  Aleksandrovna's  pecu- 
niary affairs  were  in  a  very  wretched  situation,  and  the  Levins 
felt  deeply  for  her. 

Day  was  just  breaking  as  Darya  Aleksandrovna  set  off. 
Lulled  by  the  regular  tramp  of  the  horses,  she  fell  asleep, 
and  she  did  not  wake  until  the  place  was  'reached  where  the 
horses  wqre  to  be  changed.  Here  she  took  a  cup  of  tea  with 
the  rich  peasant,  at  whose  house  Levin  had  stopped  on  his 
way  to  visit  Sviazhsky  ;  and  after  she  had  rested,  and  had 
listened  to  the  talk  of  the  old  man  and  the  young  woman, 
she  continued  her  journey. 

During  a  life  devoted  to  maternal  cares,  Dolly  had  had 
little  time  for  reflection.  Accordingly  this  carriage  journey, 
alone,  afforded  her  an  unusual  opportunity  for  reflecting  on 
her  past  life,  and  for  considering  its  different  aspects. 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  587 

First  she  thought  of  her  children,  now  left  in  charge  of  her 
mother  and  her  sister —  and  it  was  the  latter  on  whom  she 
chiefly  relied.  "If  only  Masha  doesn't  do  some  stupid 
thing,  and  if  Grisha  doesn't  get  kicked  by  the  horse,  and  if 
Lili  doesn't  bring  on  a  fit  of  indigestion,"  she  said  to  herself. 
More  important  matters  came  in  the  train  of  these  passing 
anxieties.  She  must  make  changes  in  her  rooms  when  she 
returned  to  Moscow,  she  must  refit  the  drawing-room  ;  her 
eldest  daughter  would  need  a  shuba  for  winter.  Then  came 
graver  questions.  How  should  she  best  continue  the 
children's  education?  The  girls  could  easily  be  managed,  but 
the  boys?  She  had  been  able  that  summer  to  devote  herself 
to  Grisha,  because,  by  good  luck,  she  had  had  at  that  time 
no  trouble  with  her  health.  As  her  pregnancy  came  on  — 
and  she  thought  how  unjust  it  was  to  count  the  pangs  of  child- 
birth as  the  mark  of  woman's  curse. 

"  That  is  such  a  trifle  compared  with  the  misery  of 
pregnancy,"  and  she  recalled  her  last  experience  of  that 
sort,  and  the  loss  of  the  child.  Thinking  about  this 
brought  to  mind  her  talk  with  the  young  wife,  the  daughter 
of  the  old  peasant  at  whose  house  she  had  taken  the  cup  of  tea. 
When  asked  how  many  children  she  had,  this  peasant 
woman  had  answered  that  she  had  one  daughter,  but  God 
took  her  in 'Lent. 

"  And  you  are  very  sad  about  her?  " 

"  Oh  no  !  father  will  have  plenty  of  grandchildren,  and  she 
would  have  been  only  one  care  more  !  You  can't  work  or  do 
anything;  it  hinders  everything." 

Dolly  had  been  shocked  at  such  words  from  the  mouth  of 
a  woman  whose  face  was  not  wanting  in  kindness. 

"This  is  what  it  comes  to,"  she  thought,  as  she  recalled 
her  fifteen  years  of  married  life.  "My  youth  has  been 
spent  in  a  heartache  because  I  felt  clumsy  and  looked 
hideous  ;  for  if  our  pretty  Kitty  grows  ugly  at  such  a  time, 
what  a  fright  I  must  be  !  "  and  she  shuddered  as  she  thought 
of  what  she  had  suffered,  —  the  long  nights  of  wakefulness, 
the  wretchedness  when  nursing  her  child,  the  nervousness 
and  irritability  which  followed.  Then  there  were  the 
sicknesses  of  the  children,  their  quarrelsome  tempers,  the 
expense  of  their  education,  the  perplexities  of  Latin,  and 
worst  of  all,  death.  The  mother's  heart  was  still  cruelly 
bleeding  over  the  loss  of  her  last-born,  who  had  been  carried 
off  by  croup.  She  remembered  the  grief  felt  by  her  alone 


588  ANNA 

when  she  stood  and  watched  the  little  white  brow  fringed 
with  curls,  and  the  surprised,  half-open  mouth,  and  saw  the 
pink,  silver-edged  coffin  close.  She  was  the  only  one  who 
wept,  and  the  general  indifference  had  made  her  grief  the 
greater. 

"And  what  was  all  this  for?  What  will  be  the  result  of 
this  life  of  care  ?  What  but  a  family  poor  and  badly  brought 
up  !  What  should  I  have  done  this  summer  if  the  Levins 
had  not  asked  me  to  visit  them  ?  But  however/  kind  and 
considerate  they  may  be,  they  cannot  ask  us  again,  for  they 
will  have  children  of  their  own  to  fill  their  house.  Papa  is 
almost  ruined  already  for  our  sake,  and  cannot  help  me  any 
more  ;  and  how  shall  I  succeed  in  making  men  of  my  sons? 
I  must  look  them  up  protectors,  must  humble  myself  for 
them,  for  I  cannot  count  upon  Stiva.  The  best  I  can  hope 
is  that  they  may  be  saved  from  turning  out  badly,  and  to 
bring  about  so  much,  what  suffering  I  must  endure  !  The 
words  of  the  young  peasant  contained  a  good  deal  of  truth 
in  their  frank  cynicism." 

"Are  we  nearing  the  end  of  our  journey,  Mikhail?"  she 
asked  the  bookkeeper,  by  way  of  checking  these  painful 
thoughts. 

"  Seven  versts  to  reach  the  village." 

The  carriage  was  crossing  a  little  bridge,  where  the  babui, 
with  sheaves  resting  on  their  shoulders,  had  paused  to  see 
her  pass.  Every  face  seemed  gay,  contented,  full  of  life 
and  health. 

"Everybody  is  alive  and  enjoying  the  world,"  said  Dolly 
to  herself,  as  the  old  carriage  moved  off  at  a  trot  up  a  little 
hill ;  "  I  alone  seem  like  a  prisoner  set  at  liberty  for  a  moment. 
My  sister,  Natali,  Varenka,  these  women,  Anna,  —  they  all 
know  what  life  is.  I  do  not  know.  And  why  do  people 
blame  Anna?  If  I  had  not  loved  my  husband,  I  very  likely 
might  have  done  what  she  has  done.  She  wanted  to  live  ; 
and  has  not  God  put  the  demand  for  that  into  our  hearts  ? 
Have  not  I  too  regretted  that  I  took  her  advice  and  did  not 
separate  from  Stiva?  Who  knows?  I  might  have  begun  life 
over  again  ;  might  have  loved  and  been  loved !  And  is 
what  I  am  now  doing  more  creditable  to  me  ?  I  endure  my 
husband  because  I  need  him  —  that  is  all.  I  had  some 
beauty  once."  And  she  attempted  to  draw  from  its  case  a 
small  travelling  mirror,  but  the  fear  of  being  seen  by  the  two 
men  on  the  box  restrained  her.  Without  looking  at  herself, 


ANNA  KARENINA.  589 

however,  she  could  remember  her  former  power  to  please. 
She  thought  of  the  attentions  of  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  who 
had  once  loved  her,  and  the  devotion  shown  by  good 
Turovtsuiu,  who  for  love  of  her  had  helped  to  nurse  the 
children  through  the  scarlatina ;  she  even  recalled  an 
extremely  young  man  about  whom  Stiva  had  once  teased 
her,  and  the  most  passionate,  the  most  extravagant  romances 
presented  themselves  before  her  imagination. 

"Anna  is  right;  she  is  happy,  and  she  makes  another 
happy.  She  must  be  beautiful,  brilliant,  full  of  interests  on 
all  sides,  just  as  she  used  to  be."  A  smile  played  over  Dolly's 
lips  as  she  traced  in  her  thoughts  a  romance  like  that  of 
Anna's,  but  one  in  which  she  herself  was  to  be  the  heroine. 
She  pictured  the  time  when  she  would  tell  her  husband  all, 
and  she  broke  into  a  laugh  at  thinking  how  stupefied  Stiva 
would  be.  With  such  thoughts  she  came  to  the  cross-roads 
that  led  to  Vozdvizhensky. 

XVII. 

THE  driver  reined  in  his  four  horses  and  looked  across  to 
a  field  of  rye,  where  some  muzhiks  were  sitting  beside  their 
telyega.  The  coachman  shouted  to  them,  "Come  here,  you 
lazybones." 

The  peasant  who  came  at  his  call,  an  old  round-shouldered 
man  with  hair  bound  down  by  a  narrow  leather  strap,  ap- 
proached the  carriage. 

"The  great  house  [barsky  dvor]  ?  The  count's?"  he  re- 
peated. "  Take  the  first  road  to  the  left,  and  you'll  get  into 
the  avenue  that  leads  to  it.  But  who  do  you  want?  The 
count  himself?  " 

"  Are  they  at  home,  golnbtchik?"  said  Dolly,  not  knowing 
very  well  how  to  ask  for  Anna. 

"They  must  be, .for  company  is  coming  every  day,"  said 
the  old  man,  anxious  to  prolong  the  conversation.  "  And 
you,  too  —  where  did  you  come  from?" 

"•  We  have  come  a  long  way,"  said  the  coachman.  "  So, 
then,  we  are  getting  near  the  end?" 

He  had  hardly  started  again,  when  two  voices  cried  out, 
"  Stop,  he!  stop  ! "  The  coachman  reined  in  his  horses  again. 
"  Here  they  come.  There  they  are  !  "  and  four  riders  and  a 
two-horse  tilbury  were  seen  turning  into  the  road. 

It  was  Vrousky  in  jockey  costume,  Anna,  Veslovsky,  and 


590  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

a  mounted  groom  ;  the  Princess  Varvara  and  Sviazbsky  fol- 
lowed in  a  carriage.  They  had  all  come  out  to  see  the  oper- 
ation of  a  new-fashioned  steam  reaper. 

AY  hen  the  carriage  stopped,  the  riders  were  walking  their 
horses.  Anna,  her  pretty  head  covered  with  a  tall  hat,  from 
under  which  escaped  ringlets  of  dark  hair,  appeared  quite  at 
her  ease  on  a  little  English  cob.  Dolly  was  at  first  somewhat 
scandalized  to  see  her  on  horseback,  because  she  connected 
with  horseback  riding  ideas  of  coquetry,  which  did  not  well  ac- 
cord with  Anna's  ambiguous  situation  ;  but  she  was  so  struck 
with  her  friend's  entire  simplicity,  in  spite  of  her  elegance, 
that  her  first  thoughts  disappeared.  Vaseuka  Veslovsky,  in 
his  Scotch  cap,  with  its  flowing  ribbons,  rode  next  to  Anna 
on  a  fiery,  high-stepping  cavalry  horse.  As  Dolly  saw  him, 
she  could  not  repress  a  smile.  Vronsky  followed  them  on  a 
dark  bay  of  pure  blood,  apparently  spoiling  for  a  gallop. 
Vronsky  was  sawing  on  the  reins  to  keep  him  in.  A  young 
man  in  jockey  costume  closed  the  procession. 

A  glow  came  over  Anna's  face  as  she  recognized  the  little 
person  curled  vip  in  a  corner  of  the  old  carriage,  and  uttering 
a  cry  of  joy,  she  put  her  cob  to  a  gallop,  leaped  lightly  olf 
the  horse  without  any  one's  aid  when  she  saw  that  Doll}-  had 
left  her  carriage,  and,  gathering  up  her  skirts,  ran  to  meet 
her. 

"I  thought  so,  and  did  not  dare  to  think  so!  What 
pleasure  !  you  can't  imagine  my  joy."  she  said,  taking  the 
traveller  in  her  arms,  kissing  her,  and  looking  at  her  with  an 
affectionate  smile.  "You  can't  think  what  good  you  do  me  ! 
Aleksei,"  she  said,  turning  to  the  count,  who  also  had  dis- 
mounted, "what  a  piece  of  good  fortune  !  " 

Vronsky  came  up,  raising  his  gray  hat.  "  Your  visit  gives 
us  great  pleasure,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  that  conveyed  a  pecu- 
liar satisfaction. 

Vasenka,  without  leaving  his  horse,  took  off  his  cap,  and 
waved  it  gayly  round  his  head,  in  honor  of  the  guest. 

"  This  is  the  Princess  Varvara,"  began  Anna,  in  reply  to 
a  questioning  look  of  Dolly  as  the  tilbury  came  up. 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  and  her  face  showed 
involuntarily  some  traces  of  annoyance. 

The  Princess  Varvara  was  her  husband's  aunt,  and  she 
knew  her  of  old,  and  did  not  esteem  her.  She  knew  that 
her  fondness  for  luxury  had  brought  her  into  a  humiliating 
dependence  upon  rich  relatives ;  and  the  fact  that  she  was 


ANNA   KARtfNINA.  591 

living  at  Vronsky's,  who  was  a  stranger  to  her,  insulted  her 
through  her  husband's  family.  Anna  noticed  Dolly's  disap- 
proval, was  confused,  and,  dropping  the  traiu  of  her  riding 
habit,  she  .stumbled. 

There  was  a  cool  exchange  of  greetings  between  Darya 
Aleksandrovna  and  the  princess  ;  Sviazhsky  asked  after  his 
friend  Levin  and  his  young  wife;  then,  casting  a  glance  at 
the  old  carriage,  he  invited  the  ladies  to  get  into  the  tilbury. 

"  I  will  take  this  vehicle  to  go  home  in,  and  the  princess 
will  take  good  care  of  you.  She  is  an  excellent  driver." 

"•  Oh,  no,"  Anna  interrupted  ;  "  remain  as  you  are.  I  will 
go  home  with  Dolly." 

Never  had  Darya  Aleksandrovna  seen  carriage  and  horses 
so  brilliant  as  these  ;  but  what  struck  her  still  more  was  the 
sort  of  transfiguration  which  had  come  over  Anna.  Any 
woman  less  affectionately  observant  than  herself  perhaps 
would  not  have  noticed  anything  extraordinary  about  her. 
As  she  saw  her,  Anna  was  all  aglow  with  that  elusive  beauty 
which  comes  to  a  woman  through  the  assurance  of  love 
returned.  Her  smiles  which,  as  it  were,  flew  over  her  face, 
her  brilliant  eyes,  her  graceful  and  quick  motions,  her  voice, 
her  whole  person,  from  the  dimples  of  her  cheeks  and  the 
curve  of  her  lip,  with  its  full,  rich  sounds,  and  even  the 
quiet,  friendly  manner  in  which  she  replied  to  Veslovsk}- 
when  he  asked  permission  to  mount  her  horse,  was  instinct 
with  a  seductive  charm.  It  seemed  as  if  she  herself  knew 
it,  and  was  pleased. 

There  was  an  instant  of  constraint  between  the  two  ladies 
when  they  found  themselves  alone  in  the  carriage.  Anna 
felt  ill  at  ease  under  the  questioning  eye  of  Dolly  ;  and  Dolby, 
understanding  Sviazhsky's  hint,  was  in  some  confusion  at 
her  unseemly  vehicle,  which,  indeed,  was  a  dirty  old  car- 
riage. The  men  on  the  box  shared  her  feeling,  but  Filipp, 
the  coachman,  grew  angry,  and  was  unwilling  to  submit  to 
any  such  superficial  superiority.  He  put  on  an  ironical 
smile  as  he  scrutinized  the  roan  black  trotter  harnessed  to 
the  tilbury.  "  That  brute  may  do  very  well  for  a  promenazhe, 
but  he  can't  show  forty  versts  at  a  heat,"  he  decided,  inter- 
nally, by  way  of  consolation." 

The  muzhiks  had  left  their  tclyfya,  and  gayly  and  curi- 
ously were  watching  the  meeting  of  the  friends,  and  making 
their  observations. 

"  They  seem  tolerably  glad  ;  hain't  seen  each  other  for 
some  time,"  remarked  the  old  man. 


592  ANNA   KAB&NINA. 

"  Glian-ka,  look!  Is  that  a  woman  in  trousers?"  asked 
another,  pointing  at  Veslovsky  sitting  on  the  side-saddle. 

"  Nye,  muzhik!  see  how  easy  he  rides." 

"  Say,  then,  my  children,  we  shan't  get  another  nap,  shall 
we?" 

"  No  more  sleep  now,"  said  the  starik,  squinting  his  eyes 
and  glancing  at  the  sun  ;  ' '  past  noon  !  Look  !  Now  to 
work." 

XVIII. 

ANNA  seeing  Dolly  tired,  worn,  and  covered  with  dust,  was 
on  the  point  of  saying  that  she  looked  thin,  but  the  admira- 
tion of  her  own  beauty  which  she  read  in  her  friend's  eyes 
checked  her,  — 

"  You  are  studying  me?  "  she  said.  "  You  are  wondering 
how  I  can  be  so  happy  in  my  position  !  Na  i  tcho-zh !  It 
is  shameful  to  confess  it !  my  happiness  is  unpardonable  ! 
What  has  happened  is  like  a  piece  of  enchantment.  I  have 
come  out  of  wretchedness  as  we  come  out  of  a  nightmare  ;  and 
what  a  waking  it  is  !  And  how  especially  happy  I  am  now 
that  we  are  together !  "  and  she  looked  at  Dolly  with  a  timid 
smile. 

"  How  glad  I  am  !  "  Dai'ya  Alexandrovna  answered,  more 
coldly  than  she  wished.  "  I  am  glad  for  you  ;  but  why  have 
you  not  written  me  ?  " 

"Because  I  did  not  dare  to.     You  knew  my  position." 

"  Not  dare?  to  me!  If  you  knew  how  I"  —  and  Dolly 
was  about  to  tell  her  about  the  reflections  she  had  had  on  the 
journey,  when  the  thought  struck  her  that  the  present  was  no 
time  for  that.  "We  will  have  our  talk  by  and  by,"  she 
added.  "  What  is  that  group  of  buildings,  or  little  village 
rather?"  she  asked,  wishing  to  change  the  conversation,  and 
pointing  to  some  green  and  red  roofs  which  appeared  through 
the  acacias  and  lilac  trees. 

"  No,  no  !  how  do  you  feel  about  my  position?  What  do 
you  think  of  it?  tell  me  !  "  Anna  went  on,  without  answering 
her  question. 

"  I  think"  — began  Darya  Aleksandrovna  ;  but  at  this  in- 
stant Vasenka  Veslovsky,  in  his  short  jacket,  spurring  the 
cob  into  a  galop  with  his  right  leg  and  creaking  terribly  on 
the  leather  side-saddle,  went  dashing  by  them.  "  He  goes, 
Anna  Arkadyevna,"  he  shouted.  Anna  did  not  even  look  at 
him,  but  again  it  seemed  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna  that  it  was 


ANNA    KAIitfNIXA.  593 

impossible  to  begin  on  this  long  conversation  in  the  carriage, 
and  so  she  said  less  than  she  thought. 

"I  do  not  think.  I  love  yon  and  always  have  loved  3-011. 
And  when  we  love  people  so,  we  love  them  for  what  they 
are,  not  for  what  we  wish  they  were." 

Anna  turned  her  eyes  away,  half  closing  them  in  order 
better  to  take  in  the  meaning  of  the  words.  This  was  a  new 
habit  which  Dolly  had  never  seen  in  her  before.  Apparently 
she  interpreted  her  friend's  answer  as  she  wanted,  and  she 
looked  at  Dolly.  "If  you  have  any  sins,  they  will  all  be 
blotted  out  by  this  visit  and  by  your  kind  words,"  she  said, 
and  turning  toward  her,  Dolly  saw  that  her  eyes  were  dimmed 
with  tears.  She  silently  took  her  hand.  "  What  are  those 
buildings  ?  What  a  lot  of  them  !  "  said  Dolly,  after  a  moment 
of  silence. 

"  Those  are  the  roofs  of  our  buildings,  —  our  barns  and 
stables,"  replied  Anna.  "  It  was  all  neglected,  but  Aleks£i 
has  made  it  all  new  again.  Here  our  park  begins.  He  loves 
the  country,  and  to  my  great  surprise  he  has  developed  a 
passion  for  farming  [khozyd'istvo] .  Ah,  his  is  a  rich  nature  ! 
AVhatever  he  undertakes  he  excels  in.  He  not  only  does  not 
get  bored,  but  he  is  passionately  interested  in  it.  I  do  not 
know  how,  but  he  is  making  a  capital  farmer  [khozydtn] ,  so 
economical,  almost  stingy  —  but  only  in  farm  ways.  For 
things  of  other  sorts  he  will  spend  ten  thousand  rubles  and 
never  give  it  a  thought."  She  said  this  with  that  sweet,  pen- 
sive smile  of  joy  which  is  peculiar  to  women  when  they  speak 
of  the  men  that  they  love,  and  their  half -secret  follies.  "  Do 
you  see  that  large  building?  That  is  a  hospital,  his  dada 
[hobby]  just  now.  Do  you  know  what  made  him  build  it? 
I  told  him  he  was  stingy  when  a  quarrel  broke  out  between 
him  and  the  peasants  about  a  piece  of  waste  land  which  they 
were  reclaiming.  The  hospital  was  undertaken  to  prove  my 
charge  unjust;  c'est  une  pc-titesse  [a  weak  thing],  perhaps, 
but  I  love  him  the'better  for  it.  Now  in  a  moment  you'll  see 
the  house.  It  was  built  by  his  grandfather,  and  the  outside 
hasn't  been  changed  at  all." 

"  How  beautiful !  "  cried  Dolly  with  involuntary  surprise 
at  the  sight  of  a  stately  house  ornamented  with  a  colonnade, 
and  surrounded  by  trees  a  century  old. 

k' Isn't  it?  And  the  view  from  the  second  story  is 
magnificent." 

They  came  into  the  dvor  (court)  paved  with  small  stones 


594  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

and  ornamented  with  flower-beds,  which  two  workmen  were 
at  this  moment  surrounding  with  roughly  trimmed  stone. 
They  stopped  under  a  fjorte-cochere. 

u  They  have  already  arrived,"  said  Anna,  as  she  saw  the 
saddle-horses  being  led  away.  "  Isn't  she  a  pretty  creature? 
that  cob  ;  she's  my  favorite  ;  I  love  to  give  her  sugar.  Where 
is  the  count?"  she  asked  of  the  two  servants  in  livery  who 
came  out  to  receive  them.  "  Ah,  here  he  is  !  "  added  she, 
perceiving  Vronsky  with  Veslovsky  coming  to  meet  them. 

'•Where  shall  we  put  the  princess?"  asked  Vronsky  in 
French,  and  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  turned  to  Dolly, 
and  having  kissed  her  hand,  he  said,  "  In  the  balcony  cham- 
ber?" 

'•  Oh  no,  that  is  too  far  off.  In  the  corner  chamber.  We 
shall  be  nearer  one  another.  Nu !  come,  come,"  said  she, 
giving  her  favorite  horse  some  sugar  that  the  lackey  had 
brought. 

kt  Et  vous  oubliez  votre  devoir"  [and  you  are  forgetting  your 
duty],  she  added,  turning  to  Veslovsky,  who  was  already  in 
the  porch. 

'•  Pardon,  fen  ai  tout  pie  in  les  poches  "  [I  have  my  pockets 
full],  he  replied,  smiling  and  thrusting  his  fingers  into  his 
vest  pocket. 

'•  Mais  vous  venez  trop  tard"  [but  you  came  too  late],  she 
replied,  wiping  her  hand,  which  the  horse  had  mouthed  in 
taking. the  sugar. 

Anna  turned  to  Dolly,  — 

"  You'll  stay  with  us  a  long  time,"  said  she.  "  Only  one 
day?  That  is  impossible." 

"  That  is  what  I  promised,  —  and  the  children,"  answered 
the  latter,  ashamed  at  the  wretched  appearance  of  her  poor 
little  traveling-bag  and  at  the  dust  with  which  she  felt  her- 
self covered. 

"  No,  Dolly,  dushenka.  However,  we'll  talk  of  that  by 
and  b}-.  Come  up  to  your  room." 

The  room  was  not  the  chamber  of  honor  which  Vronsky 
offered  her,  but  one  where  she  could  be  nearer  Anna ;  but 
this  room  was  furnished  with  a  luxury  such  as  she  was  not 
accustomed  to,  and  which  recalled  the  most  sumptuous  hotels 
that  she  had  seen  abroad. 

"  JVu,  dAshenka!  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  here,  my  dear 
friend,"  said  Anna  again,  seating  herself  in  her  riding 
habit  (amazoitka)  before  her  sister-in-law.  "  Tell  me  about 


ANNA   KAK&NINA.  595 

your  family.  I  saw  Stiva  just  an  instant,  but  he  could  not 
tell  me  anything  about  the  children.  How  is  my  liubimitsa 
[darling]  Tania  ?  IShe  must  be  a  great  girl !  " 

"•  Yes,  very  large,"  answered  Dolly,  astonished  at  finding 
herself  talking  so  eooly  about  her  children.  "We  are  all 
living  charmingly  with  the  Levins." 

"  Vot !  If  I  had  known,"  said  Anna,  "  that  you  wouldn't 
look  down  on  me,  ...  I  should  have  begged  you  all  to  come 
here.  Stiva  is  an  old  and  good  friend  of  Aleksei's,"  said 
Anna,  blushing. 

"  Da!  but  we  are  so  well" — began  Dolly  in  confusion. 

"Z>a/  I  am  so  happy,  I  talk  nonsense  ;  only,  d&sheiika,  I 
am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Anna,  kissing  her  again. 
'•But  promise  me  to  be  frank,  and  tell  me  what  you  think 
about  me  ;  I  want  to  know  all.  But  I  am  so  glad  that  you  see 
me  just  as  I  am.  My  only  idea,  you  see,  is  to  live  without 
hurting  anybody.  I  don't  want  to  hurt  anybody ;  I  want 
simply  to  live  and  not  give  pain  to  any  one  but  myself.  Am 
I  not  right  about  it?  However,  we'll  talk  of  all  this  at  our 
leisure.  Now  I'm  going  to  change  my  dress ;  I  will  send 
you  a  waiting-maid." 

XIX. 

DOLLY,  when  left  alone,  examined  her  chamber  with  the 
eyes  of  a  genuine  Jchozydika.  All  that  she  saw  as  she  went 
through  the  house,  and  all  that  she  saw  in  the  room, 
impressed  her  by  its  richness  and  elegance,  and  this  new 
European  luxury,  which  she  had  read  about  in  English 
novels,  she  had  never  seen  before  in  Russia,  and  especially 
not  in  the  country.  All  was  new,  from  the  French  tapes- 
tries to  the  carpet,  which  covered  the  whole  room,  the  bed 
with  its  hair  mattress,  the  marble  toilet-table,  the  bronzes  on 
the  mantel,  the  rugs,  the  curtains,  —  all  was  new  and  elegant 
to  the  last  degree. 

The  smart  waiting-maid  who  came  to  offer  her  services 
was  dressed  with  much  more  style  than  Dolly,  who  felt  con- 
fused at  taking  out  before  her,  her  poor  toilet  articles  from 
her  bag,  especially  a  mended  nightdress,  which  she  had 
happened  to  put  in  by  mistake  from  among  her  oldest  ones. 
When  she  was  at  home  these  devices  had  their  advantage, 
for  they  represented  economy  in  a  small  way  ;  but  in  pres- 
ence of  this  brilliant  attendant,  they  made  her  ashamed. 


596  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

Fortunately,  the  girl  was  called  away  by  her  mistress, 
and,  to  Dolly's  great  satisfaction,  her  old  acquaintance, 
Annushka,  took  her  place. 

Annushka,  overjoyed  at  seeing  Darya  Aleksandrovna  again, 
prattled  on  to  her  heart's  content  about  her  dear  baruina, 
and  the  love  and  tenderness  which  the  count  showed  Anna 
Arkadyevna.  Dolly  tried  to  stop  her,  but  she  persisted  in 
speaking. 

"•  I  grew  up  with  Anna  Arkad}'evna,  and  love  her  more 
than  the  whole  world.  It's  not  my  place  to  judge  her,  and 
she  seems  to  love  "  — 

"  Please  have  these  washed,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna. 

"I  will  obey.  We  have  two  women  especially  for  the 
laundry,  but  the  washing  is  done  all  by  machinery.  The 
count  looks  out  for  everything.  He  is  such  a  husband  "  — 

Dolly  was  glad  when  Anna  came  in  and  put  an  end  to  the 
babbling  Annushka's  confidences. 

Anna  was  dressed  in  a  very  simple  cambric  dress.  Dolly 
noticed  particularly  this  simple  dress.  She  knew  what  this 
simplicity  meant,  and  how  much  money  it  represented. 

"  An  old  acquaintance,"  said  Anna  to  Annushka. 

Anna  now  was  no  longer  confused.  She  was  perfectly 
calm  and  self-possessed.  Dolly  saw  that  now  she  was 
entirely  free  from  the  excitement  that  took  possession  of  her 
when  she  first  came,  and  had  assumed  that  superficial  tone 
of  indifference  which,  as  it  were,  closed  the  door  to  the 
expression  of  real  thought  and  feelings. 

" Nu!  but  how  is  your  daughter?"  asked  Dolly. 

"  Ani?  ver}'  well.  Should  you  like  to  see  her?  I'll  show 
her  to  you.  We  have  had  great  trouble  with  her  Italian 
nurse,  a  good  woman,  but  so  stupid  ;  still,  the  little  thing  is 
so  much  attached  to  her,  we  have  to  keep  her." 

"  But  how  have  you  done  about?" — began  Dolly,  wishing 
to  ask  about  the  child's  name ;  but  she  stopped,  as  she  saw 
Anna's  countenance  fall,  and  changed  the  ending  of  the 
question.  "Have  you  weaned  her?" 

Anna  understood. 

"  That  is  not  what  you  were  going  to  say."  You  were 
thinking  of  the  child's  name,  weren't  you?  It  is  the  great 
grief  of  Aleksei  that  she  hasn't  any  name ;  that  is,  she  is 
Kare"nina,"  and  she  half-closed  her  eyes.  "  We  will  talk 
again  about  all  that;  come,  and  I'll  show  her  to  you.  Elle 
est  trds  gentitte;  she  is  already  beginning  to  walk." 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  597 

The  nursery,  a  high,  spacious,  and  well-lighted  room,  was 
fitted  up  with  the  same  stunptuousness  as  the  rest  of  the 
house.  There  were  the  baby-coaches  which  came  from  Eng- 
land, and  the  inventions  for  teaching  children  to  walk,  the 
bath-tubs,  swings ;  all  were  new,  beautiful,  solid,  of  Eng- 
lish make,  and  evidently  very  costly.  The  child  was  seated 
in  an  arm-chair  by  the  table,  with  an  apron  on,  was  eating 
her  broth  and  spilling  it  all  over  her  dress.  A  Russian  maid- 
servant was  helping  her,  and  at  the  same  time  was  herself 
eating.  Neither  the  French  maid  nor  the  nurse  was  present, 
but  one  could  hear  from  a  neighboring  room  the  French 
jargon  by  which  they  made  themselves  understand  each  other. 
The  English  maid  appeared  as  soon  as  she  heard  Anna's 
voice,  and  made  plentiful  excuses,  although  no  one  had 
blamed  her.  She  was  a  large  woman  with  blonde  curls,  which 
shook  when  she  talked,  and  had  an  unpleasant  face,  which 
Dolly  disliked.  Whenever  Anna  spoke,  she  answered,  "  Yes, 
my  lady." 

As  for  the  child,  her  black  hair  and  healthy  color,  and  her 
amusing  way  of  creeping,  won  Darya  Aleksandrovna's  heart, 
with  her  dress  tucked  up  behind,  and  her  beautiful  eyes 
watching  those  who  were  looking  at  her,  as  if  she  understood 
that  she  was  being  admired.  Then,  when  she  was  put  down 
on  the  carpet,  she  crept  energetically  towards  them  on  her 
hands  and  knees,  like  some  pretty  animal.  But  the  whole  at- 
mosphere of  the  nursery,  and  especially  the  English  maid, 
struck  Darya  Aleksandrovna  very  unpleasantly.  She  could 
not  understand  how  Anna,  with  her  knowledge  of  people, 
could  be  willing  to  put  up  with  such  an  unsympathetic,  vulgar 
maid.  Was  it  because  they  could  not  find  a  respectable 
person  who  would  consent  to  live  in  an  irregular  family  ? 

Dolly,  after  a  few  words,  observed  that  Anna,  the  nurse, 
the  maid,  and  the  child  were  not  much  wonted  to  each  other, 
and  that  the  mother  was  almost  a  stranger  in  this  part  of  the 
house.  She  could  not  find  any  of  the  child's  playthings,  and 
strangest  of  all,  she  didn't  know  how  many  teeth  the  child 
had! 

"  It  is  always  a  grief  to  me  that  I  am  so  useless  here, "said 
Anna,  as  they  went  out,  holding  up  the  train  of  her  dress  so 
that  it  should  not  catch  on  any  of  the  toys  by  the  door.  "  It 
was  not  so  with  my  oldest.  " 

"I  thought,  on  the  contrary," — began  Dolly  timidly. 

u  Oh,  no !     You  know  that  I  have  seen  Serozha  again," 


598  ANNA    KAEtfXIXA. 

said  she,  looking  fixedly  before  her,  as  if  she  sought  for 
something  faraway.  '•  You  can't  believe —  but  I  urn  like 
a  person  dying  of  starvation,  who  finds  a  banquet  before  her, 
and  does  not  know  how  to  begin.  You  are  this  banquet  for 
me.  With  whom  could  I  speak  openly  if  not  with  you?  I 
shall  ask  for  nothing  more  when  we  can  have  a  quiet  talk 
together.  Mais  je  ne  vous  ferai  grace  de  rien  [I  shall  not 
spare  you  anything].  I  must  tell  you  all." 

' ;  Da  !  I  want  to  give  you  a  sketch,  now,  of  the  people  you 
will  meet  here,"  she  began.  "First,  the  Princess  Vtirvara. 
You  know  her,  and  I  know  3'our  opinion  and  Stiva's.  Stiva 
says  her  whole  aim  of  life  consists  in  proving  her  pre-eminence 
over  Aunt  Katerina  Pavlovna.  That  is  true  of  her  ;  but  she 
has  some  good  in  her,  I  assure  you,  and  I  am  under  many 
obligations  to  her.  She  was  of  great  help  to  me  at  Peters- 
burg, when  un  chaperon  was  indispensable.  You  don't  know 
how  difficult  my  position  was,  there  in  Petersburg  !  Here  I 
am  very  comfortable  and  happy.  jVw,  da!  but  about  this 
afterwards.  To  return  to  our  guests.  Then  there's  Sviazh- 
sky  ;  he  is  the  marshal  of  the  district,  and  a  very  clever  man, 
and  he  needed  Alekse'i  for  something.  You  see,  with  his 
fortune,  now,  as  we  live  in  the  country,  Alekse'i  can  gain  a 
wide  influence.  Then,  Tushkie' vitch  ;  you  have  met  him  ;  he 
was  at  Betsy's  ;  now  they  sent  him  off,  and  he  came  to  visit 
ns.  As  Aleks6i  says,  he  is  one  of  those  very  agreeable  men, 
if  one  takes  him  just  as  he  wishes  to  appear,  et  puis  il  est 
comme  il  faut,  as  the  Princess  Varvara  says.  And  then 
Veslovsky ;  you  know  him.  A  very  good  fellow.  How 
about  that  absurd  story  he  told  of  Levin  ?  Veslovsky  told 
Aleksei,  and  we  don't  believe  it,  as  il  est  tres  gentil  et  naif" 
[he's  very  nice  and  very  unaffected],  she  added,  smiling. 
"I  have  to  entertain  all  these  people,  because  men  need 
amusement,  and  Aleksei  needs  society  ;  and  we  have  to  have 
it  lively  and  gay,  else  Alekse'i  finds  time  to  want  something 
new.  We  also  have  with  us  the  surveyor.  He  is  a  German, 
a  very  good  man  ;  understands  his  business ;  Aleksei  has 
great  esteem  for  him.  Then  there's  the  doctor,  a  young 
man,  who  is  not  exactly  a  Nihilist,  but,  you  know,  he  eats 
with  his  knife.  Then  the  architect,  —  une  petite  cour"  [a 
little  court  ] . 


ANNA    KARJSNINA.  599 


XX. 

"  Nn!  here  we  have  Doll}*,  Princess,  whom  you  wished  so 
much  to  see,"  said  Antia  to  the  Priucess  Varvara,  who  was 
seated  on  the  great  stone  terrace,  in  the  shade,  with  her 
embroidery  frame  in  front  of  her.  "  She  says  that  she  does 
not  want  anything  before  dinner,  but  try  to  make  her  take 
some  breakfast,  while  I  go  and  find  the  gentlemen." 

The  Princess  Varvara  gave  Dolly  a  gracious  and  conde- 
scending reception,  and  immediate!}'  began  to  explain  that  she 
had  come  to  live  with  Anna  because  she  loved  her  more  than 
her  sister,  Katerina  Pavlovna,  and  because,  now  when  all  were 
abandoning  Anna,  she  wanted  to  be  of  assistance  to  her  at  this 
trying  period  of  transition. 

'"  When  her  husband  has  consented  to  a  divorce,  I  shall  go 
back  to  my  solitude  ;  but  however  painful  it  may  be,  I  shall 
stay  here  for  the  present,  and  not  imitate  the  example  of 
others.  And  how  kind  you  are  ;  how  good  of  you  to  make 
this  visit !  They  live  exactly  like  the  very  best  married 
people.  Let  God  judge  them  ;  it  is  not  for  us.  It  was  just 
so  with  Biriuzovsky  and  Madame  Avenyeva,  and  then 
Yasiliyef  and  Madame  Mamonova,  and  Liza  Neptunova. 
You  see  they  don't  say  anything  about  them,  and  in  the  end 
they  will  be  received.  And  then  c'est  un  inttrieur  sijoli,  si 
comme  il  fant.  Tout-a-fait  &  I'anglaise.  On  se  reunit  le 
matin  au  breakfast  etpuis  on  se  separe.  [They  have  a  perfect 
establishment,  and  the  inside  of  their  house  is  so  charming, 
so  stylish.  It  is  altogether  English.  The  family  meets  at 
breakfast  and  then  separates.]  Every  one  does  just  as  he 
pleases.  They  dine  at  seven.  Stiva  was  wise  to  send  you  ; 
he  would  better  keep  on  good  terms  with  them.  You  know 
the  count  has  great  influence  through  his  mother  and  his 
brother.  And  then  he  is  most  generous.  Have  they  told 
you  about  the  hospital?  £a  sera  admirable!  [It's  going 
to  be  excellent !]  Everything  comes  from  Paris." 

This  conversation  was  interrupted  by  Anna,  who  returned 
to  the  terrace,  followed  by  the  gentlemen,  whom  she  had 
found  in  the  billiard-room. 

It  was  a  superb  day  ;  there  was  every  facility  for  diversion, 
and  several  hours  would  pass  before  dinner-time. 

Veslovsky  proposed  "  une  partie  de  laicn  tennis.  I'll  take 
one  side  with  you  again,  Anna  Arkadyevna,"  he  said  with 
his  gay,  contagious  smile. 


600  ANNA    KARtfNINA. 

"  No,  it  is  too  warm  ;  suppose  we  go  into  the  park,  and 
take  Darya  Aleksandrovua  out  in  the  boat  to  show  her  the 
landscape,"  said  Vronsky. 

Veslovsky  and  Tushkievitch  went  to  get  the  boat  read}*, 
and  the  two  ladies,  with  the  count  and  Sviazhsky,  took  the 
paths  to  the  park. 

Dolly  was  somewhat  confused  and  embarrassed  by  this 
absolutely  novel  environment  in  which  she  found  herself. 
Abstractly,  theoretically,  she  not  only  justified,  but  she  was 
disposed  even  to  approve  of  Anna's  conduct.  Like  the 
majority  of  irreproachably  virtuous  women,  wearying  often 
of  the  monotony  of  a  virtuous  life,  Dolly  from  a  distance 
excused  illicit  love,  and  even  envied  it  a  little.  Moreover, 
she  loved  Anna  with  all  her  heart. 

But  in  reality,  when  she  found  herself  among  these 
strangers,  with  their  fashionable  ways,  she  was  thoroughly  ill 
at  ease.  The  Princess  Varvara  forgiving  everything,  because 
she  could  thereby  share  in  her  niece's  luxury,  was  odious. 

She  might  be  disposed  to  excuse  Anna's  conduct,  but  the 
sight  of  the  man  for  whom  she  had  taken  this  step  was  unpleas- 
ant to  her.  Vronsk}*  was  not  congenial  to  her  at  any  time  ; 
she  thought  him  proud,  and  could  see  no  reason  except  his 
wealth  to  justify  his  haughtiness.  Still,  he  was  rather 
imposing  as  master  of  the  house,  and  she  felt  humiliated 
before  him,  just  as  she  had  felt  when  the  maid  took  the 
patched  gown  from  her  valise. 

She  hardly  ventured  to  make  him  a  commonplace  compli- 
ment on  the  beauty  of  his  place,  and  as  she  walked  beside 
him  she  was  at  a  loss  for  a  subject  of  conversation.  How- 
ever, for  want  of  anything  better,  she  ventured  a  few  words 
in  admiration  of  his  house. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  very  handsome  building,  and  in  good  old 
style,"  replied  the  count. 

"I  liked  the  dvor  [court]  in  front  of  the  steps;  was  it 
always  so  ? " 

"  Oh,  no  !  If  you  had  only  seen  it  in  the  spring  !  "  And 
little  by  little,  at  first  coldly,  but  wanning  as  he  went  on,  he 
pointed  out  to  Dolly  the  many  improvements  he  had  made. 
His  listener's  praises  gave  him  evident  pleasure. 

"  If  you  are  not  tired,  we  might  go  as  far  as  the  hospital," 
said  he,  looking  at  Dolly  to  make  sure  that  his  proposition 
would  not  bore  her. 

"Shall  we,  Anna?" 


ANNA   KARtfNINA.  601 

"  Yes.  —  Shall  we  not?  "  she  said,  turning  to  Sviazhsky  ; 
"  mats  il  ne  faut  pas  laisser  le  jmuvre  Veslovsky  et  Tuslie- 
vitch  se  moffondre  III  dans  le  bateau !  [but  not  leave  these 
gentlemen  to  wait  in  vain  for  us  in  the  boat]  ;  we  must  let 
them  know. — Da!  This  is  a  monument  to  his  glory,"  said 
she  to  Dolly,  with  the  same  smile  which  she  bore  when  she 
first  spoke  of  the  hospital. 

"  O  capital  deed  ! "  said  Sviazhsky  ;  and  then,  not  to  seem 
like  a  flatterer,  he  added, — 

"  I  am  surprised,  Count,  that  you,  who  are  doing  so  much 
for  the  peasants'  sanitary  matters,  are  so  indifferent  to 
schools." 

k'  C'est  devenu  tellement  commun  les  ecoles"  [schools  are  so 
common],  replied  Vronsky.  "You  must  know  I  do  this  to 
amuse  myself. — This  way,  ladies,"  and  he  led  them  into  a 
side-path. 

Upon  leaving  the  garden,  Dolly  saw  a  great  red  brick 
building  before  her,  of  complicated  architecture,  whose  roof 
glittered  in  the  sun.  At  the  side  rose  another  building. 

"  How  rapidly  the  work  is  going  on,"  remarked  Sviazhsky. 
"  The  last  time  I  was  here  the  roof  was  not  in  position." 

"  It  will  be  done  by  autumn,  for  the  inside  is  finished  now," 
said  Anna. 

' k  AVhat  else  are  you  building  ?  " 

"  A  house  for  the  doctor,  and  a  pharmacy,"  replied 
Vronsky  ;  and  seeing  the  architect,  in  a  short  overcoat,  ap- 
proaching, he  excused  himself  to  the  ladies,  and  went  to 
meet  him.  Going  round  the  mortar  pit,  into  which  the  work- 
men were  throwing  lime,  he  joined  the  architect  and  began  to 
talk  angrily  with  him. 

"  The  pediment  is  going  to  be  too  low,"  he  replied  to 
Anna,  who  asked  him  what  the  trouble  was. 

'"  I  said  that  the  foundation  ought  to  be  raised,"  said  Anna. 

"  Da!  Of  course,  it  would  have  been  better,  Anna  Arka- 
dyevna,"  said  the  architect ;  "•  cZa,  it  was  a  mistake." 

"  Da!  I  am  very  much  interested  in  him,"  said  Anna,  in 
reply  to  Sviazhsky,  who  asked  her  about  her  acquaintance 
with  the  architect.  "  The  new  buildings  must  correspond 
with  the  hospital.  But  this  was  thought  of  afterwards,  and 
lieuun  without  any  plan." 

After  his  talk  with  the  architect,  he  offered  to  show  Dolly 
the  inside  of  the  building.  Though  the  outside  and  the  lower 
part  of  the  buildiug  was  almost  finished,  on  the  upper  floors 


602  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

scarcely  anything  was  clone.  They  went  up  by  a  broad, 
cast-iron  staircase  to  the  second  story,  and  entered  the  first 
great  dormitory.  The  walls  were  stuccoed,  and  lighted  by 
huge  panes  of  glass  ;  only  the  floors  were  yet  to  be  finished. 
Vronsky  explained  the  arrangement  of  the  rooms,  the  new 
apparatus  for  heat  and  ventilation  ;  and  the  visitors  admired 
the  marble  bath-rooms  and  the  beds  with  extraordinary 
springs,  the  litters,  and  the  reclining  chairs. 

Sviazhsky.  and  especially  Dolly,  were  surprised  at  all  they 
saw,  and  asked  many  questions,  not  disguising  their  admira- 
tion. 

"Da!  I  think  this  hospital  will  be  the  only  one  of  the 
kind  in  Russia,"  remarked  Sviazhsky,  quite  capable  of  admir- 
ing the  count's  improvements. 

Doll}'  was  interested  in  everything.  Vronsky  was  pleased 
with  the  admiration  he  received,  and  being  full  of  hearty 
animation,  the  impression  which  he  made  upon  her  was  de- 
cidedly favorable. 

"  Da!  he  is  certainly  good,  and  worthy  to  be  loved,"  she 
thought,  and  she  understood  Anna,  how  it  was  that  Anna 
came  to  love  him. 

XXI. 

"  No  ;  the  princess  must  be  tired,  and  the  horses  will  not 
interest  her,"  said  Vronsky  to  Anna,  who  had  proposed  to 
show  Dolly  the  stable,  where  there  was  a  new  stallion  that 
Sviazhsky  wished  to  see. 

"  You  go  there,  and  I  will  escort  the  princess  back  to  the 
house.  And  if  you  please,"  added  he  to  Dolly,  "  we  will  talk 
a  little  on  the  way." 

"  Very  willingly,  for  I'm  not  a  connoisseur  in  horses,"  she 
answered,  seeing  by  Vronsky's  face  that  he  had  something 
special  to  say  to  her. 

Accordingly,  when  Anna  had  gone,  he  said,  looking  at 
Dolly  with  his  smiling  eyes,  '•  I  am  not  mistaken,  am  I,  in 
believing  you  to  be  a  sincere  friend  of  Anna's  ?  "  and  he  took 
off  his  hat  to  wipe  his  forehead. 

Dolly  could  not  imagine  what  he  was  going  to  ask  of  her. 
The  thought  came  into  her  head  :  "  He  is  going  to  ask  me  to 
come  and  visit  them  with  my  children,  or  to  get  society  for 
Anna  when  she  comes  to  Moscow.  Or  is  he  going  to  speak 
of  Vasenka  Veslovsky  and  his  attentions  to  Anna ;  or  of 


ANNA  KAEfiNINA.  603 

Kitty  ;  or  to  confess  himself  to  blame  ?  "  She  was  greatly 
disturbed  in  her  mind. 

"  You  have  such  an  influence  over  Anna.  She  loves  you 
so,"  said  the  count,  after  a  moment's  pause  ;  "  give  me  your 
help." 

Dolly  looked  into  Vronsky's  serious,  strong  face,  without 
answering. 

"  Of  all  Anna's  friends,  you  are  the  only  one  who  has 
come  to  see  her  —  I  do  not  count  the  Princess  Varvara  —  I 
know  very  well  it  is  not  because  }'ou  approve  of  our  position  ; 
it  is  because  you  love  Anna,  and  knowing  the  cruelty  of  her 
position,  want  to  help  her.  Am  I  right?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Darya  Aleksaudrovna,  shutting  up  her  sun- 
shade, "  but"  — 

"  No  one  could  feel  more  deeply  than  I  do  the  cruel  diffi- 
culties of  our  life,"  said  Vronsky,  stopping  and  making  Dolly 
stop.  "  And  you  will  easily  admit  it  if  you  do  me  the  honor 
to  believe  that  I  am  not  heartless.  I  am  the  cause  of  her 
trouble,  and  therefore  I  feel  it." 

"  Certainly  ;  but  aren't  you  exaggerating  difficulties  ?  "  said 
Dolly,  sincerely  affected  by  what  he  said.  "  In  society,  her 
position  is  hard,  I  admit." 

"In  society  it  is  hell!"  said  he,  savagely  frowning; 
"you  can't  conceive  the  moral  tortures  Anna  endured  at 
Petersburg  on  those  days  ;  and  I  beg  you  to  believe  "  — 

"  Da!  but  here?  And  neither  she  nor  you  feel  the  need 
of  a  society  life." 

"Society!  why  should  I  need  it?"  exclaimed  Vronsky 
scornfully. 

"You  dispense  with  it  easily,  and  perhaps  you  always 
will." 

"I  see  in  Anna  that  she  is  happy,  perfectly  happy,  and 
she  has  had  time  to  tell  me  that  she  is." 

And  while  she  spoke,  the  thought  struck  Dolly  that  Anna 
might  not  have  been  quite  frank. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  that  she  has  revived  after  all  her  suffer- 
ings. She  is  happy  —  she  is  happy  now.  But  I?"  said 
Vronsky.  "  I  am  afraid  of  what  the  future  holds  for  us,  — 
excuse  me  ;  do  you  want  to  go?  " 

"  No,  it  is  immaterial.     N*l  let  us  sit  down  here." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  sat  down  on  a  garden  bench  in  a  nook 
of  the  walk.  He  was  standing  in  front  of  her. 

"  I  see  that  she  seems  happy  ;  but  will  it  last?     Whether 


604  ANNA   KARtfNIXA. 

we  did  right  or  wrong  is  a  hard  question ;  but  the  die  is 
cast,"  he  said,  changing  from  Russian  to  French,  "  and  we 
are  joined  for  lite  ;  we  are  joined  by  the  ties  of  love.  We 
have  one  child,  and  we  may  have  others.  But  the  law  and 
all  the  conditions  of  our  state  are  such  that  there  are  a  thou- 
sand complications,  which  Anna,  now  that  she  is  resting 
after  her  afflictions  and  sufferings,  does  not  see  and  will  not 
see.  It  is  natural ;  but  I  cannot  help  seeing.  My  daughter, 
according  to  the  law,  is  not  my  daughter,  but  Karenin's,  and 
I  do  not  like  this  falsehood,"  said  he,  with  an  energetic  ges- 
ture of  negation,  and  looking  at  Darya  Aleksandrovna  with 
a  gloomy,  questioning  face. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  simply  looked  at  him.  He  con- 
tinued, — 

"To-morrow  a  son  may  be  born  —  my  son  —  and  by  law 
he  would  be  a  Karenin,  and  could  inherit  neither  my  name 
nor  my  property.  You  understand  the  cruelty,  the  horror,  of 
this  state  of  things?  I  try  to  explain  this  to  Anna.  It  irri- 
tates her  —  she  will  not  understand  me,  and  I  cannot  tell  her 
all.  Now  look  at  the  result.  I  have  here  an  object  for  my 
activity  which  interests  me,  and  which  I  am  proud  of ;  cela 
n'est  pas  un  pis  aller  [it  is  by  no  means  a  last  resort]  ;  far 
from  it ;  but  to  work  strongly,  one  must  work  for  others  be- 
sides one's  self,  and  I  can  have  no  heirs.  Conceive  the  feel- 
ings of  a  man  who  knows  that  his  children  and  those  of  the 
wife  he  worships,  do  not  belong  to  him  ;  that  their  father  hates 
them,  and  would  never  recognize  them.  Isn't  it  horrible?" 

He  was  silent  and  deeply  moved. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  said  Darya  Aleksandrovna  ;  "  I  under- 
stand this.  But  what  can  Anna  do?" 

"  Da!  That  brings  me  to  the  purpose  of  this  talk,"  said 
the  count,  trying  to  control  himself.  "Anna  can  get  a  di- 
vorce. It  depends  on  her.  Her  husband  consented  to  that 
when  your  husband  asked  him  about  it,  and  I  know  that  he 
would  not  refuse  ;  at  all  events,  if  Anna  wrote  to  him.  He 
said  up  and  down  that  he  would  consent,  if  Anna  would 
apply  for  it.  Of  course,"  he  added,  "  this  condition  is  one  of 
those  Pharasaic  cruelties,  of  which  only  heartless  people  are 
capable.  He  knows  what  torture  all  remembrance  of  him 
h:is  for  her,  and  so  he  exacts  this  letter  from  her.  I  under- 
stand that  it  is  painful  to  her.  She  ought  to  be  above  these 
excessive  sensibilities ;  her  happiness  is  involved,  as  well 
as  her  children's.  But  the  reasons  are  so  imperative,  that 


ANNA  KARtfNINA.  605 

she  must  passer  pardessus  tontes  ces  finesses  de  sentiment.  H 
va  du  bonheur  et  de  I'existence  d'Anna,  et  de  ces  enfants.  I 
don't  speak  about  myself,  though  it  is  painful,  very  painful, 
to  me.  And  this  is  the  reason  1  am  speaking  to  you,  Prin- 
cess, as  to  one  who  can  save  us.  Help  me  to  persuade  Anna 
of  the  need  of  getting  a  divorce." 

"I  will,"  said  Dolly,  remembering  her  talk  with  Kare'nin. 
"  But  why  does  she  not  think  of  it  herself?"  thought  she. 
She  recalled  Anna's  half-shut  eyes ;  this  new  habit  seemed 
to  indicate  some  inner  thoughts  which,  perhaps,  she  wished 
to  put  far  from  her,  —  to  efface  entirely,  if  that  were  possi- 
ble. 

''Yes,  I  will  speak  to  her,  certainly;  both  for  your  sake 
and  for  hers,"  repeated  Dolly,  in  response  to  Vronsky's 
grateful  look.  And  they  went  towards  the  house. 

XXII. 

"  Diis*NERris  nearly  ready,  and  we  have  hardly  seen  one  an- 
other," said  Anna,  coming  in ;  and  she  tried  to  read  in 
Dolly's  eyes  what  had  passed  between  her  and  Vronsky. 
"  I  count  on  this  evening  ;  and  now  we  must  go  and  change 
our  dresses,  after  our  visit  to  the  hospital." 

Dolly  went  to  her  room,  and  felt  ridiculous.  She  had  no 
change  to  make,  since  she  had  worn  her  best  dress  ;  but  in 
order  to  make  some  change  in  her  toilette,  she  fastened  a 
knot  of  ribbon  at  her  throat,  put  a  bit  of  lace  in  her  hah', 
and  brushed  herself. 

"  It  is  all  I  could  do,"  she  said,  laughingly,  to  Anna,  who 
came  to  look  after  her,  dressed  in  a  third  costume. 

"  Da!  we  are  very  formal  here,"  said  Anna,  in  apology 
for  her  elegant  attire.  "Aleks6i  is  so  glad  that  you  came. 
I  believe  he  has  fallen  in  love  with  you." 

Going  down  to  the  parlor,  they  found  the  Princess  Var- 
vara  and  the  gentlemen  already  waiting.  Only  the  architect 
was  without  a  dress  coat,  and  they  passed  into  the  dining- 
room.  Vronsky  begged  Sviazhsky  to  hand  in  Anna  Arka- 
dyevna ;  he  himself  went  with  Dolly  ;  Veslovsky  anticipated 
Tnski£vitch  in  offering  his  arm  to  the  Princess  Varvara,  and 
Tuskievitoh  went  with  the  doctor. 

The  dinner,  and  the  table-service,  and  all  this  new  kind  of 
luxury  which  she  saw.  interested  Dolly.  She  was  mistress 
of  a  house,  and  knew  that  nothing  goes  right,  eveu  in  a 


606  ANNA    KARtfNINA. 

modest  establishment,  without  a  head  ;  and  from  the  way  in 
which  the  count  looked  around  him,  and  made  signals  to  the 
butler,  and  offered  her  the  choice  between  botvinya  and  soup, 
she  saw  that  the  superintendence  came  from  him.  Anna 
had  no  more  to  do  with  it  than  Veslovsky  had ;  she  was  a 
mere  guest  like  the  rest. 

Only  as  far  as  conversation  went  was  Anna  khozy&ika, 
and  thus  conversation  was  b}'  no  means  easy  among  guests 
belonging  to  such  different  spheres  of  life.  But  she  had  a 
word  for  every  one,  including  the  superintendent  and  the 
architect,  and  she  went  through  with  her  task  with  her  usual 
tact  and  simplicity,  and  even  with  pleasure,  as  Darya  Alek- 
sandrovna  noticed. 

The  conversation  turned  first  on  the  way  in  which  Tuski£- 
vitch  had  been  left  alone  in  the  boat,  and  that  led  Tuskie- 
vitch  to  speak  of  the  recent  }'acht-race  at  Petersburg.  But 
Anna,  taking  advantage  of  a  lull,  quickly  turned  to  the  archi- 
tect, in  order  to  bring  him  out. 

"  Nikolai'  Ivanuitch  was  surprised,"  said  she,  referring  to 
Sviazhsky,  "to  see  how  the  new  building  had  grown  since  he 
was  here  last.  But  I  myself  see  it  every  day,  and  every  day 
I  am  surprised  myself  to  see  how  fast  it  goes." 

"It  is  good  to  work  with  his  Excellency,"  said  the  archi- 
tect. "  You  don't  do  such  work  under  government  patron- 
age. When  they  would  write  reams  of  paper,  as  I  told  the 
count,  we  do  it  in  three  words." 

"  American  ways,"  suggested  Sviazhsky.  "Da!  buildings 
there  are  raised  rationally." 

The  conversation  then  went  off  on  the  abuse  of  power  in 
the  United  States ;  but  Anna  immediately  started  him  on  a 
third  theme,  in  order  to  bring  out  the  superintendent. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  the  steam  reaping  machines?"  she 
asked  of  Darya  Aloksandrovna.  "We  were  just  going  to 
see  it  when  we  met  you.  I  never  saw  one  before." 

"  How  do  they  work?"  asked  Dolly- 

"Just  like  scissors.  A  plank  and  lots  of  little  knives. 
Like  this  !"  Anna  took  a  knife  and  fork  into  her  beautiful 
white  hands  and  tried  to  show  her.  She  apparently  saw 
that  she  did  not  make  herself  very  clear,  but  knowing  that 
she  spoke  pleasant!}7  and  that  her  hands  were  beautiful,  she 
continued  her  explanations. 

"  Better  say  a  pen-knife  !  "  said  Veslovsky,  jestingly,  not 
taking  his  eyes  from  her.  Anna  smiled,  but  she  did  not  reply. 


ANNA    KARBNINA.  607 

"  Am  I  not  right,  Karl,  that  they  are  like  scissors?"  she 
said,  appealing  to  the  director. 

•'  0/i,  ja  "  [Oh,  yes] ,  replied  the  German.  "  Es  ist  ein  ganz 
einfaclies  Ding"  [it  is  a  very  simple  thing],  and  he  began  to 
explain  the  construction  of  the  machine. 

The  German  drew  out  of  his  pocket  a  pencil  and  a  note- 
book, and  tried  to  refute  some  of  Sviazhsky's  objections. 
"  Zu  complidrt,  macht  zu  viel  klopots"  [Too  complicated, 
makes  too  much  bother],  he  said  in  conclusion. 

"'  W/inscht  man  Dochols,  so  hat  man  auch  klopots"  [If  one 
wants  money,  he  must  have  bother],  said  Vdsenka  Veslovsky, 
making  sport  of  the  German.  '•'J' adore  Vallemand  "  [I  adore 
German],  he  said  with  a  peculiar  smile,  turning  to  Anna. 

"  Cessez!"  '[Hush],  said  she,  with  affected  sternness. 

"  We  expected  to  find  you  on  the  field,"  said  she  to  the 
doctor,  who  was  somewhat  infirm.  "Were  you  there?" 

And  so  the  conversation  went  on  in  a  general  way  on 
various  topics,  all  taking  part. 

Once  Darya  Aleksandrovna  was  touched  to  the  quick  at 
hearing  Sviazhsky  criticise  Levin's  opinions  about  the  harm- 
fulness  of  machinery  in  Russian  agriculture. 

"  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  this  gentleman, 
Levin,  but  probably  he  has  never  seen  the  machines  he 
criticises.  But  if  he  has  seen  machines,  they  must  have 
been  Russian  ones  and  not  the  foreign  make.  What  can  be 
his  point  of  view?" 

"  A  Turkish  point  of  view,"  said  Anna,  smiling  at 
Veslovsky. 

"I  cannot  defend  opinions  which  I  do  not  know,"  said 
Dolly,  reddening  ;  "  but  Levin  is  a  thoroughly  intelligent 
man,  and  I  know  that  he  could  explain  his  ideas  to  you  if 
he  were  here." 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  fond  of  him,  and  we  are  excellent 
friends,"  said  Sviazhsky,  smiling;  "  mats  pardon,  il  est  tin 
petit  peu  toque  [but  he  is  a  little  cracked].  He  considers 
the  zemstvo  and  the  justices  of  the  peace — everything  —  en- 
tirely useless  —  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  them." 

"  There's  our  Russian  indifference  !  "  exclaimed  Vronsky, 
filling  his  goblet  with  ice-water  from  a  carafe.  "  Rather 
than  give  ourselves  the  trouble  of  understanding  new  duties, 
we  find  it  simpler  to  ignore  them." 

"  I  don't  know  any  one  who  is  more  strict  in  the  fulfil- 
ment of  his  duties,"  said  Dolly,  irritated  by  Vronsky's 
superior  tone. 


608  ANNA   KAEENINA. 

"  I,  on  the  contrary,"  said  Vronsky,  evidently  somewhat 
piqued,  "  am  very  sensible,  as  you  see,  of  the  honor  which 
has  been  done  me,  thanks  to  Nikolai'  Ivauovitch,  in  my 
appointment  as  honorary  justice  of  the  peace.  The  duty  of 
judging  the  affairs  of  a  muzhik  seems  to  me  as  important  as 
anything  that  I  could  do.  It  is  my  only  way  of  repaying 
society  for  the  privileges  I  enjoy  as  landed  proprietor." 

Yrousky's  assurance  that  he  was  in  the  right  seemed 
very  strange  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna.  She  knew  that 
Levin,  whose'  opinions  were  diametrically  opposite,  was 
equally  firm  on  his  side ;  but,  as  she  loved  the  latter,  she 
thought  he  must  be  right. 

"  Well,  we  can  depend  upon  you  at  the  election,"  said 
Sviazhsky.  "Perhaps  we  ought  to  leave  by'the  8th.  Will 
you  do  me  the  honor  to  go  with  me,  Count?" 

"For  my  part,"  said  Anna,  "I  pretty  much  agree  with 
your  beau  frere,  though  for  different  reasons.  I  am  afraid 
that  now-a-days  we  are  getting  to  have  too  many  of  these 
public  duties,  just  as  in  old  times  there  were  so  many  tchinov- 
niks  that  there  was  a  tchinovnik  for  everything ;  so  now 
every  one  is  becoming  a  public  functionary.  Aleksei  has 
been  here  six  months  and  is  already  a  member  of  five  or  six 
different  commissions — trustee  \_popetchitel'],  judge,  town 
counsehnan,  juryman  —  I  don't  know  what  else.  Du  train 
que  cela  va  [at  this  rate]  all  his  time  will  be  spent  on  it.  And  I 
am  afraid  if  these  things  are  multiplied  so,  that  it  will  be  only 
a  matter  of  form.  You  have  ever  so  many  offices,  Nikolai 
Ivanuitch,  have  you  not?  at  least  twent}*,  haven't  you?"  she 
asked,  turning  towards  Sviazhsky. 

Anna  spoke  jestingly,  but  in  her  tone  there  was  a  shade  of 
irritation,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  who  was  watching  Anna 
and  Vronsky  attentive!}7,  immediately  noticed  it.  She  saw  also 
that  the  Count's  face  assumed  a  resolute  and  vexed  expres- 
sion, and  that  the  Princess  Varvara  made  haste  to  talk  about 
some  Petersburg  acquaintances,  so  as  to  change  the  subject ; 
and  remembering  what  Vronsky  had  told  her  in  the  garden 
about  his  pleasure  in  activity,  she  felt  certain  that  this  con- 
versation had  something  to  do  with  a  secret  quarrel  between 
Vronsky  and  Anna. 

The  dinner,  the  wines,  the  service,  were  luxurious,  but 
everything  seemed  to  Darya  Aleksandrovna  formal  and  im- 
personal, like  the  state  dinners  that  she  had  seen,  and  it 
made  a  disagreeable  impression  upon  her. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  609 

After  dinner  they  went  out  upon  the  terrace.  A  game  of 
lawn  tennis  was  arranged.  Dolly  at  first  attempted  to  play, 
but  soon  gave  it  up,  and  went  to  sit  with  the  Princess  Var- 
vara,  who  was  watching  the  others.  Vronsky  and  Sviazhsky 
played  in  earnest,  but  Veslovsky  was  a  poor  player.  He  got 
too  excited,  but  he  greatly  amused  the  others.  His  jests  and 
shouts  n?ver  ceased.  Like  the  other  men  he  took  oli "his  coat 
and  played  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  his  tall,  well-shaped  fig- 
ure and  his  ruddy,  warm  face,  and  his  violent  motions  made 
quite  a  vivid  picture.  But  Darya  Aleksandrovna  did  not 
enjoy  the  hour  while  they  were  playing.  She  thought  the  be- 
havior of  Vasenka  Veslovsky  and  Anna  exceedingly  child- 
ish. But  seeing  that  the  others  were  enjoying  themselves 
she  looked  on  and  made  believe  that  she  was  ga}'.  All  that 
day  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were  acting  in  a  comedy  with 
better  actors  than  herself. 

A  passionate  desire  to  see  her  children  seized  her,  to  take 
up  again  that  domestic  yoke  which  this  morning  had  seemed 
oppressive.  She  made  up  her  mind  to  go  home  the  next  day, 
although  she  had  come  intending  to  stay  for  two  days. 
When  she  went  to  her  room  after  tea,  and  after  a  moonlight 
row  in  the  boat,  she  felt  thoroughly  relieved.  She  went 
alone  to  her  room,  took  off  her  dress,  and  began  to  put  up 
her  hair  for  the  night.  It  was  even  unpleasant  to  think  that 
Anna  would  soon  be  in  to  see  her.  She  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  be  alone  with  her  thoughts. 

XXIII. 

JUST  as  she  was  feeling  ready  to  go  to  bed,  the  door  opened, 
and  Anna  came  in,  with  a  white  dressing-gown  on. 

All  day,  ever}-  time  that  Anna  had  been  on  the  point  of 
speaking  intimately,  she  had  put  it  off,  saying,  "  Bye  and  bye  ; 
when  we  are  alone,  we  will  talk.  I  must  tell  you  every-, 
thing."  But  now  that  they  were  alone,  Anna  did  not  know 
how  to  begin.  She  sat  by  the  window  looking  at  Dolly,  and 
it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  had  already  told  all  that  was  in  her 
heart  to  tell. 

"  Nu!  What  about  Kitty?"  asked  Anna,  sighing  deeply, 
and  looking  guiltily  at  Dolly.  "  Tell  me  the  truth,  Dolly  ; 
is  she  offended  with  me  ?  " 

"Angry?     No,"  answered  Dolly,  smiling. 

"  Doesn't  she  hate  —  doesn't  she  despise  me?" 


610  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  but -you  know  this  is  not  pardonable." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Anna,  turning  towards  the  open  window. 
"  But  1  was  not  to  blame  !  And  who  is  to  blame?  and  what 
is  there  blameworthy  about  it?  Could  it  have  been  other- 
wise? Nu!  How  do  you  think?  Could  you  have  helped 
being  Stiva's  wife  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  answer  ;  but  you  must  tell  me  "  — 

"  Da,  da!  But  finish  telling  me  about  Kitty.  Is  she 
happy?  They  say  her  husband  is  an  excellent  man." 

"  That's  too  little  to  say,  that  he's  excellent;  I  don't  know 
a  better  man." 

"  Ach  !  How  glad  I  am  !  I  am  very  glad.  Little  to  say 
that  he's  an  excellent  man  ?  " 

Dolly  smiled. 

"  But  tell  me  about  yourself,"  said  Dolly.  "  I  have  talked 
with  "  —  She  did  not  know  what  to  call  Vronsky  —  whether 
Count  or  Aleks^i  Kirillovitch. 

"With  Alekse'i,  yes;  I  know  that  you  talked  with  him. 
But  I  want  you  to  tell  me  honestly  what  you  think  of  me — 
of  my  life." 

"  How  can  I  tell  you?     I  don't  know  what  to  say." 

"  No  ;  you  cannot  tell  at  all.  But  you  see  my  life.  Don't 
forget  that  you  see  us  with  people,  and  we  are  not  alone  — 
but  we  came  in  the  spring,  we  lived  alone,  and  we  shall  live 
alone  again.  I  ask  for  nothing  better  than  living  alone  with 
him.  But  imagining  that  I  ma}-  live  alone  without  him, 
absolutely  alone,  —  but  I  see  that  this  ma}-  be  repeated  — 
that  he  may  spend  half  of  his  time  away  from  home  ;  then 
imagine  what  the  loneliness  would  be  for  me  !  "  she  said, 
and  getting  up,  she  sat  down  by  Dolly.  "  Oh,  of  course," 
she  said  quickly,  interrupting  Dolly,  who  was  about  to 
speak,  "Of  course,  I  cannot  keep  him  by  force,  —  I  don't 
keep  him.  To-day  there's  a  race  ;  his  horses  race  ;  he  goes. 
Very  glad !  But  you  think  of  me  ;  imagine  my  situation. 
Da!  what  can  I  say  about  it?"  she  smiled.  "But  what 
did  he  talk  with  you  about?" 

4t  He  spoke  about  a  matter  which  I  myself  wanted  to  talk 
over  with  you  ;  and  it  is  easy  for  me  to  be  an  advocate  of 
it,  —  about  this  :  whether  it  is  not  possible  or  necessary  to  — 
to  —  improve,  make  your  position  legal.  You  know  how  I 
look  at —  but  anyhow,  if  possible,  a  marriage  must  take 
place." 

"  You  mean  divorce?     Do  you  know,  the  only  woman  who 


ANNA   KARtfNINA.  611 

came  to  see  me  in  Petersburg  was  Betsy  Tverskai'a.  Per- 
haps you  know  her.  Au  fond  c'est  lafemme  la  phis  deprav&e 
qui  existe  [At  heart  she  is  the  wickedest  woman  in  the  world]  ; 
she  deceived  her  husband — she  and  this  Tuskie"vitch  ;  but 
she  told  me  that  she  did  not  wish  to  know  me,  because  my 
position  was  illegal !  Don't  think  that  I  compare  —  I  know 
3'ou,  dushenka  moya  [my  dear  soul].  But  I  could  not  help 
remembering  it.  Nu  !  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

'•  lie  said  that  he  suffered  both  for  you  and  for  himself  ; 
maybe  you  will  say  that  it  is  egoism,  but  what  an  honorable 
and  noble  egoism!  He  wishes  to  make  his  daughter  legiti- 
mate, and  to  be  your  husband  and  have  rights  over  you." 

"  What  wife,  what  slave,  could  be  more  of  a  slave  than  I, 
in  my  position?"  she  interrupted  angrily. 

"  The  main  reason  that  he  wished  it  was  that  you  might 
not  suffer." 

"This  is  impossible.     Nu?" 

"Ntt  !  to  make  his  children  legitimate,  to  give  them  a  name." 

"  What  children  ?"  said  Anna,  not  looking  at  Dolly,  but 
half -closing  her  eyes. 

"  Ani,  and  those  that  may  come  to  you." 

"  Oh,  he  can  be  easy  ;  I  shall  not  have  any  more." 

"  How  can  you  answer  so?  " 

"  Because  1  will  not  have  an}'  more  ; "  and  in  spite  of  her 
emotion,  Anna  smiled  at  the  expression  of  astonishment,  of 
naive  curiosity  and  horror  depicted  on  Dolly's  face.  "After 
my  illness  the  doctor  told  me  "  — 

"  It  is  impossible,"  exclaimed  Dolty,  looking  at  Anna  with 
wide  eyes  of  amazement. 

What  she  had  just  heard  put  all  her  thoughts  to  confusion, 
and  the  deductions  which  she  drew  enlightened  her  upon 
several  points  which  had  hitherto  been  mysterious. 

Had  she  not  dreamed  something  of  the  sort  on  her  journey  ? 
But  now  this  simple  answer  to  a  complicated  question 
frightened  her. 

"  N'est  ce  pas  immoral?"  she  asked,  after  a  moment's 
silence. 

' '  Wh}'  ?  Do  not  forget  that  I  must  choose  between  being 
tolerated  or  being  the  companion  of  my  husband ;  for  so  I 
consider  him.  If  that  is  a  doubtful  fact  to  you,  it  is  not  so 
to  me.  I  am  his  wife  only  as  long  as  he  loves  me,  and  I 
must  keep  his  love." 

Dolly  was  absorbed  in  the  crowd  of  reflections  which  these 
confidences  had  awakened  in  her. 


612  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

"  Da!"  she  thought,  "  I  have  not  tried  to  keep  Stiva ;  but 
has  she  who  took  him  from  me  kept  him  either?  She  was 
young  and  pretty,  but  that  did  nut  prevent  Stiva  from 
leaving  her  too.  And  will  the  count  be  held  by  the  means 
which  Anna  employs?  When  he  likes,  will  he  not  find  a  yet 
more  fascinating  woman,  just  as  my  abominable,  wretched, 
and  guilty  husband  has  done?" 

She  sighed  deeply. 

"  You  say  it  is  immoral,"  resumed  Anna,  feeling  that 
Dolly  disapproved  of  her.  "  How  can  I  want  children?  It 
is  not  the  suffering,  —  I  am  not  afraid  of  that.  But  think  what 
my  children  will  be,  —  unfortunate  beings  without  a  name  ! 
destined  to  blush  at  their  father,  their  mother,  their  birth." 

"  Da!  that  is  the  reason  you  should  get  a  divorce." 

Anna  did  not  hear  ;  she  wanted  to  finish  her  argument. 

"  Why  was  reason  given  me  if  I  cannot  use  it  to  prevent 
the  birth  of  more  unhappy  beings?" 

She  looked  at  Dolly,  but  not  waiting  for  answer,  she 
went  on. 

"  I  should  always  feel  my  guilt  towards  these  unhappy 
children.  If  they  do  not  exist,  they  will  not  know  misery  ; 
but  if  they  exist  and  suffer,  then  I  am  to  blame." 

These  were  the  same  arguments  that  Darya  Aleksandrovna 
had  used  to  herself,  but  now  she  listened  and  did  not  under- 
stand the  n.  She  said  to  herself,  — 

"  How  can  one  be  culpable  with  regard  to  non-existent 
existences?"  And  suddenly  the  thought  came,  "Could  it 
have  been  possibly  any  better  if  her  darling  Grisha  had  never 
existed?"  and  it  struck  so  unpleasantly,  so  strangely,  that 
she  shook  her  head  to  chase  away  the  cloud  of  maddening 
thoughts  that  came  into  her  mind. 

"  No,  I  do  not  know  ;  I  believe  it  wrong,"  she  said,  with 
an  expression  of  disgust. 

"  Da!  but  don't  you  forget  that  you  are  not  in  the  same 
position  as  I,  and  that  I  am  not  in  the  same  position  as  you," 
said  Anna.  "For  you  the  question  is,  Do  you  desire  not  to 
have  more  children?  for  me,  Do  I  desire  them?  This  is  the 
principal  difference.  You  must  know  that  I  cannot  desire 
them  in  my  position." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  was  silent.  She  suddenly  became 
aware  that  such  an  abyss  separated  her  from  Anna  that  be- 
tween them  certain  questions  existed  on  which  they  could 
never  agree,  and  which  had  best  not  be  discussed. 


ANNA    KARtfNINA.  613 


XXIV. 

"ONE  more  reason  for  legalizing  your  position,  if  pos- 
sible." 

"Yes,  if  possible,"  answered  Anna,  in  an  entirely  different 
tone,  calm  and  sweet. 

"Isn't  a  divorce  entirely  possible?  They  tell  me  your  hus- 
band has  consented." 

"  Dolly,  do  not  speak  of  that." 

"  Nu!  as  you  please,"  she  answered,  struck  by  the  sad 
look  on  Anna's  face.  "Aren't  you  looking  too  much  on 
the  dark  side  ?  " 

"I?  Not  at  all;  I  am  very  happy  and  contented.  You 
saw,  Je  fais  des  passions  [I  even  get  up  flirtations]  with 
Veslovsky"  — 

"  Da!  to  tell  the  truth,  Veslovsky's  manner  displeases  me 
very  much." 

"•Ach!  there's  nothing!  It  tickles  Alekse"i.  But  he  is 
a  mere  boy  and  entirely  in  my  hands.  You  understand,  I  do 
as  I  please  with  him ;  just  as  you  do  with  Grisha.  — 
Dolly  !  [she  suddenly  changed  the  conversation]  you  say 
that  I  look  on  the  dark  side.  You  can't  understand.  This 
is  too  terrible  ;  I  try  not  to  look  at  all !  " 

"  You  are  wrong  ;  you  ought  to  do  what  is  necessary." 

"What  is  necessary?  You  say  I  must  marry  Aleks£i, 
and  that  I  don't  think  about  that.  /  not  think  about  that !  " 
she  exclaimed,  and  the  color  flew  over  her  face.  She  got 
up,  straightened  herself,  and  began  walking  slowly  up  and 
down,  stopping  now  and  then.  "Not  think  about  that! 
There  is  not  a  day  or  an  hour  when  I  do  not  think  of  it, 
and  blame  myself  for  thinking  of  it ;  —  because  the  thought 
of  it  makes  me  mad,"  she  repeated.  "  When  I  think  of  it, 
I  can  only  quiet  myself  with  morphine.  But  very  good  ! 
let  us  speak  calmly.  They  tell  me  divorce,  but  in  the  first 
place  he  would  not  consent ;  HE  is  under  the  Countess  Lidia's 
influence." 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  sat  down  by  the  table,  and  with  a 
sympathetic  look  she  followed  Anna  as  she  walked  up  and 
down.  She  shook  her  head,  — 

"  We  must  try,"  said  she. 

"  Suppose  I  should  try.  What  does  it  mean?"  she  asked, 
evidently  having  thought  it  over  a  thousand  times.  "It 


614  ANNA    KAR&X1XA. 

means  that  I,  who  hate  him,  and  who  have  confessed  my 
guilt  to  him  —  I  believe  in  his  magnanimity  —  that  I  humiliate 
myself  to  write  him  —  Nu!  suppose  I  make  the  effort;  sup- 
pose I  do  it.  I  shall  receive  either  an  insulting  answer  or 
his  consent.  Good,  I  get  his  consent."  Anna  at  this  time 
was  in  the  furthest  end  of  the  room  and  stopped  there  to 
arrange  a  window-curtain.  "I  get  his  consent; — but  my 
s-son?  He  will  not  give  him  to  me  !  No,  he  will  grow  up 
despising  me,  living  with  his  father,  whom  I  have  left.  Just 
think,  I  love  these  two  almost  equally,  both  more  than  my- 
self ;  these  two,  Serozha  and  Aleks£i." 

She  advanced  to  the  middle  of  the  room  and  leaned  toward 
Dolly,  pressing  her  hands  to  her  breast.  In  her  white  peig- 
noir she  seemed  wonderfully  tall  and  large.  She  shook  her 
head,  and  looking  out  of  her  moist,  shining  eyes  upon  the 
little,  homely,  lean  Dolly,  sitting  their  in  her  darned  night- 
gown and  nightcap,  all  a-tremble  with  emotion,  — 

"  These  two  only  I  love,  and  I  cannot  bring  them  together. 
If  this  were  not  so,  it  would  be  all  the  same  ;  all,  all  the  same. 
It  will  end  in  some  way  ;  but  I  can  not,  I  will  not  talk  about 
this.  You  could  never  imagine  what  I  suffer  !  " 

She  sat  down  beside  Dolly  and  took  her  hand. 

"  What  do  you  think?  What  do  you  think  of  me?  You 
don't  despise  me.  I  do  not  deserve  that ;  I  am  miserably 
unhappy.  If  there  is  any  more  unhappy  than  I  " —  and  turn- 
ing away,  she  began  to  weep. 

After  Anna  had  left  her,  Dolly  said  her  prayers  and  went 
to  bed.  She  pitied  Anna  with  all  her  soul  while  she  was 
talking  with  her ;  but  now  she  could  not  bring  herself  to 
think  of  her.  Memories  of  home  and  children  arose  in  her 
imagination  with  new  and  wonderful  joy.  So  dear  and 
precious  seemed  this  little  world  to  her  that  she  decided  that 
nothing  would  tempt  her  to  stay  longer  away  from  them, 
and  that  she  would  leave  the  next  day. 

Anna  meantime,  returning  to  her  dressing-room,  took  a 
glass  and  poured  into  it  several  drops  of  a  mixture  contain- 
ing chiefly  morphine,  and,  when  she  had  grown  calm,  she 
went  quietly  to  her  bed-room. 

Vronsky  looked  at  her  attentively,  trying  to  find  some 
indication  in  her  face  of  her  talk  with  Dolly  ;  but  he  saw  only 
that  engaging  loveliness,  to  the  charm  of  which  he  always 
submitted.  He  wanted  to  ask  her  what  they  had  been  talk- 
ing about,  but  he  waited  for  her  to  speak. 


ANNA    K  ARE  NIX  A.  615 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  Dolly,"  she  said,  simply. 

"  Da!  I've  kuown  her  for  a  long  time.  She's  an  excellent 
woman,  mats  excessi 'cement  terre  d,  terre  [though  exceedingly 
commonplace].  But  still  I  am  well  pleased  at  her  visit." 

He  gave  Anna  another  questioning  look,  and  took  her 
hand ;  but  she  smiled  without  seeming  to  understand. 

The  next  morning,  in  spite  of  repeated  urging  from  her 
hosts,  Darya  Aleksandrovna  prepared  to  go  away.  Levin's 
coachman,  in  his  old  kuftan  and  waggoner's  cap,  put  the  un- 
matched horses  into  the  old  carriage  with  its  shabby  harness, 
and  looking  stern  and  resolute,  drove  up  the  sanded  drive- 
way to  the  jxnie  cochere. 

Darya  Aleksandrovna  took  a  cold  farewell  of  the  Princess 
Varvara  and  the  gentlemen.  The  day  that  they  had  passed 
together  made  thorn  all  see  clearly  that  they  had  no  interests 
in  coannon,  and  that  they  were  better  apart.  Anna  only  was 
sad.  She  knew  that  no  one  would  waken  again  in  her  the 
feelings  which  Dolly  had  aroused  in  her  soul,  and  which  rep- 
resented all  the  better  side  of  her  nature.  Soon  all  vestige 
of  such  feelings  would  be  stifled  by  the  life  that  she  was 
leading. 

Dolly  breathed  freely  when  she  found  herself  in  the  open 
fields  ;  and  just  as  she  was  feeling  curious  to  learn  how  the 
servants  were  impressed,  Filipp,  the  coachman,  suddenly 
turned  around  and  said,  — 

"  Rich  enough  —  they're  rich,  but  they  only  feed  out  three 
measures  of  oats.  That'll  do  for  the  roosters.  What  are 
three  measures?  Only  a  bite.  Novv-a-days  oats  only  cost 
forty-five  kopeks.  That  ain't  our  way." 

"  A  stingy  barin,"  added  the  bookkeeper. 

"  Nu!  but  the  horses  pleased  you,  didn't  they?"  asked 
Dolly. 

"The  horses  —  one  word;  and  the  food's  good.  But  I 
don't  know  how  you  felt  about  it,  Darya  Aleksandrovna  ; 
I  was  sick  of  it."  And  he  turned  his  honest  lace  towards 
her. 

"  Da!  and  so  was  I.  Do  you  think  we  shall  reach  home 
to-night?  " 

"  We  must  get  home." 

Dolly  found  her  children  well ;  and  as  she  thought  her 
journey  over,  she  thought  better  of  it.  She  gave  an  animated 
description  of  the  luxury  and  good  taste  of  the  Vronskys' 


616  ANNA  KARENINA. 

establishment,  and  of  their  cordiality  ;  and  she  did  not  allow 
herself  to  say  a  word  against  them. 

"  You  must  know  Anna  and  Vronsky,  —  and  I  know  him 
better  than  I  did,  —  to  appreciate  how  kind  and  affectionate 
they  are,"  said  she  with  perfect  sincerity,  forgetting  the  vague 
feeling  of  discomfort  that  she  had  felt  when  she  was  there. 

XXV. 

VRONSKY  and  Anna  passed  the  rest  of  the  summer  and  part 
of  the  autumn  in  the  country,  and  took  no  steps  towards  get- 
ting a  divorce.  It  was  agreed  between  them  that  they  should 
not  make  any  visits  ;  but  they  both  felt  that  the  longer  they 
lived  alone  in  the  solitude  of  autumn,  and  without  guests, 
the  more  unendurable  became  their  life  and  that  they  must 
have  some  change.  Nothing  which  constitutes  happiness  was 
apparently  wanting  to  them.  They  were  rich,  young,  well ; 
they  had  one  child,  and  they  had  pleasant  occupations. 
Anna  continued  to  take  the  greatest  care  of  her  person  and 
her  dress.  She  read  much,  both  in  the  way  of  novels  and  of 
serious  literature,  and  sent  abroad  for  valuable  books  which 
she  saw  reviewed  in  the  magazines.  No  subject  that  could 
interest  Vronsky  was  indifferent  to  her.  She  astonished 
him  by  her  knowledge  of  agriculture  and  architecture,  drawn 
from  books  and  technical  journals,  and  he  grew  accustomed 
to  consulting  her  about  everything,  even  on  questions  of  sport 
or  the  breeding  of  horses. 

She  took  a  very  serious  interest  in  the  building  of  the  hos- 
pital and  put  in  practice  there  some  original  ideas  which  she 
knew  how  to  carry  out.  The  object  of  her  life  was  to  please 
Vronsk}',  and  take  the  place  of  all  that  he -had  given  up  for 
her ;  and  he  knew  how  to  appreciate  her  devotion,  and  was 
touched  by  it,  but  at  the  same  time  he  felt  oppressed  by  the 
chains  of  tenderness  which  she  forged  around  him. 

As  time  went  on  he  found  himself  embarrassed  by  these 
chains  which  bound  him,  and  he  began  more  and  more  to  feel 
anxious  to  cast  them  off,  lest  they  should  deprive  him  of  his 
independence.  If  it  had  not  been  for  his  ever-increasing  de- 
sire for  freedom,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  scenes  that  he 
met  with  every  time  that  he  had  to  go  to  the  city,  to  the 
races,  Vronsky  would  have  been  perfectly  contented  with  his 
life. 

The  rdle  of  rich  lauded  proprietor  which  he  was  trying 


ANXA    KAKtiNINA.  617 

was  decidedly  to  his  taste,  not  only  because  he  saw  that  it 
was  from  such  men  that  the  true  Russian  aristocracy  was 
constituted,  but  because  he  found  that  he  had  a  marked  tal- 
ent for  managing  his  estates.  His  work,  which  absorbed  him 
more  and  more,  was  prospering  admirably.  Notwithstanding 
his  enormous  expenses  for  the  building  of  the  hospital,  ma- 
chinery, and  improved  cattle,  and  many  other  things,  he  felt 
sure  that  he  was  not  wasting  but  increasing  his  property.  He 
entered  into  all  details  and  was  firm  as  rock  in  defending  his 
interests.  Notwithstanding  his  German  superintendent's 
cunning  and  dexterity,  he  did  not  allow  himself  to  be  led  by 
him  into  absurd  extravagances,  though  he  was  willing  to 
mt;ke  all  useful  changes,  particularly  when  they  were  of  a 
kind  to  make  an  impression  on  outsiders  ;  but  he  never  went 
beyond  the  limits  which  he  had  marked  out  for  himself. 

The  Department  of  Kashin,  where  the  estates  of  Vronsky, 
Svia/hsky,  Oblonsky,  Koznuichef,  and  a  small  part  of  Lev- 
in's were  situated,  was  to  hold  its  provincial  elections 
(dvorianskie  vuiborui)  in  October. 

These  elections  attracted  general  attention  on  account  of 
the  many  notable  personages  who  took  part  in  them.  People 
came  from  Moscow,  Petersburg,  and  even  from  abroad. 

Vronsky,  too,  had  promised  Sviazhsky  to  be  present. 

On  the  evening  before  this  event  Vronsky  and  Anna  almost 
nad  a  quarrel  about  his  proposed  trip.  It  was  getting 
autumnal  in  the  country,  a  melancholy,  gloomy  time,  and 
therefore  Vronsky,  already  ready  for  a  contest,  announced  in 
a  cold,  stern  tone,  that  he  intended  to  be  away  for  a  few.days. 
But  to  his  surprise  Anna  received  the  news  with  entire  calm- 
ness. She  smiled  as  he  looked  at  her.  He  knew  her  power 
of  retiring  into  herself,  and  he  knew  that  it  was  manifested 
when  she  was  planning  some  rash  step  that  she  did  not  wish 
him  to  know.  He  was  afraid  of  this  now,  but  he  was  desir- 
ous of  avoiding  a  scene  that  he  almost  forced  himself  in  be- 
lieving that  her  manner  was  sincere. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  lonely." 

"  I  hope  so.  I  expect  to  receive  a  box  of  books  from 
Moscow  ;  no,  I  shall  not  be  lonely." 

"  She  is  adopting  a  new  tone,  and  so  much  the  better," 
thought  he  ;  "  but  it's  all  the  same  thing." 

And  so,  without  asking  farther  explanation,  he  went  off  to 
the  elections.  This  was  the  first  time  since  their  relations 
had  begun  that  he  had  left  her  without  a  complete  explana- 


618  ANNA  KARtfNINA. 

tion.     In  one  way  this  troubled  him  ;  in  another,  he  felt  that 
it  was  better. 

"  There  is  beginning  to  be  something  not  altogether  clear 
and  above  board,  but  she  will  get  used  to  it,"  he  thought. 
"  At  all  events,  I  can  let  her  have  everything  except  uuy 
independence  as  a  man." 

XXVI. 

IN  September  Levin  returned  to  Moscow,  for  his  wife's 
confinement,  and  had  already  passed  a  month  there,  doing 
nothing,  when  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  who  was  taking  an  active 
part,  invited  him  to  go  to  the  government  of  Kashin  to  the 
elections.  Moreover,  he  had  some  business  to  attend  to  in 
the  government  of  Kashin,  in  relation  to  the  guardianship  of 
the  estate  of  his  sister,  who  lived  abroad. 

Levin  was  still  in  a  state  of  uncertainty ;  but  Kitty  saw 
that  he  was  tired  of  the  city,  and  urged  him  to  go  and  put  an 
end  to  his  indecision,  by  having  a  deputy  nobleman's  uniform 
made  for  him  at  an  expense  of  eight}'  rubles.  And  these 
eight3*  rubles  spent  on  his  uniform  formed  the  principal  rea- 
son that  induced  him  to  go. 

He  had  been  waiting  six  days,  every  day  trying  to  bring 
his  sister's  affairs  into  a  satisfactory  state  ;  but  the  business 
relating  to  guardianship  had  not  advanced  a  step,  because  it 
depended  on  the  marshal,  whose  re-election  was  impending. 
The  time  passed  in  long  conversations  with  excellent  people, 
who  were  very  desirous  to  make  themselves  useful,  but  could 
do  nothing,  as  the  marshal  remained  invisible.  These  fruit- 
less comings  and  goings  were  like  the  futile  efforts  one  makes 
in  a  dream  ;  but  marriage  had  taught  Levin  patience,  and  he 
tried  not  to  be  exasperated.  He  also  patiently  tried  to 
understand  the  electoral  manoeuvres,  which  were  so  exciting 
to  the  honest  and  estimable  men  around  him,  and  he  did  his 
bsst  to  become  learned  in  a  matter  which  he  had  hitherto 
treated  very  lightly. 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  took  pains  to  explain  to  him  the  meaning 
and  importance  of  the  new  elections,  in  which  he  was  partic- 
ularly interested. 

Snetkof ,  the  present  marshal  (predvoditel) ,  was  a  man  of 
the  old  stamp,  attached  to  the  ways  of  the  past,  who  had 
squandered  a  considerable  fortune  in  the  most  honest  way  in 
the  world,  and  whose  antiquated  ideas  did  not  suit  present 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  619 

needs.  As  marshal,  he  handled  large  sums  of  money,  and 
had  control  over  the  gravest  matters,  such  as  guardianships, 
—  and  this  especially  concerned  Levin,  —  the  direction  of 
public  instruction,  and  last  and  not  least,  the  zemstvo. 

It  was  considered  necessary  to  put  in  his  place  a  new  and 
active  man,  imbued  with  the  most  enlightened  modern  ideas, 
and  to  manage  the  business  so  as  to  extract  from  all  the 
rights  given  to  the  noblesse  (dvorianstvo) ,  not  as  the  noblesse, 
but  simply  as  a  constituent  part  of  the  zemstvo,  those  advan- 
tages of  self-government  which  were  possible. 

The  rich  Department  of  Kashin  could  furnish  an  example 
to  the  other  governments  for  all  Russia,  if  it  knew  how  to 
use  the  strength  concentrated  there,  and  the  new  elections 
thus  would  be  highly  important.  It  was  proposed  to  elect  as 
predvoditel,  instead  of  Snetkof ,  either  Sviazhsky,  or,  still  bet- 
ter, Nevyedovsky,  a  man  of  eminent  understanding,  formerly 
a  professor,  who  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Sergei  Ivanovitch." 

The  provincial  assembly  (sobrdnie)  was  opened  by  a  speech 
from  the  governor,  who  urged  the  nobilit}-  to  elect  the  offi- 
cials, not  from  partisan  reasons,  but  for  merit  and  for  the 
public  weal,  and  he  hoped  that  the  nobility  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  Kashin  would  do  their  duty,  and  prove  their  devo- 
tion to  the  monarch,  as  they  had  always  done.  Having 
finished  his  speech,  the  governor  left  the  hall,  and  deputy- 
noblemen,  tumultuously  and  eagerly,  and  even  enthusiastically, 
followed  him,  and  surrounded  him  while  he  was  putting  on 
his  shuba,  and  talking  in  a  friendly  way  with  the  government 
predvoditel.  Levin,  anxious  to  see  everybody  and  miss  noth- 
ing, was  in  the  midst  of  the  throng,  and  he  heard  the 
governor  say  :  "  Please  tell  Mary  a  Ivanovna  that  my  wife  is 
very  sorry,  but  she  had  to  go  to  the  asylum."  Then  all  the 
nobles  gayly  took  their  shubas,  and  went  in  a  bod}'  to  the 
cathedral  (sob6r). 

In  the  cathedral  Levin,  together  with  the  rest,  raised  his 
head  and  repeated,  after  the  protopop,  the  words  by  which 
they  swore  to  fulfil  their  duties.  The  church  service  always 
impressed  Levin,  and  when  he  heard  this  crowd  of  men,  old 
and  young,  solemnly  repeating  the  formal  words,  "I  kiss 
the  cross,"  he  felt  himself  stirred. 

On  the  second  and  third  day  the  assembly  was  occupied 
with  the  moneys  meant  for  the  educational  establishments 
for  the  nobility  and  for  women.  On  the  fourth  day  the 
verification  of  the  government  moneys  came  up,  and  here, 


620  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

for  the  first  time,  the  new  party  came  into  direct  collision  with 
the  old.  The  Commission,  whose  duty  it  was  to  verify  these 
accounts,  announced  to  the  assembly  that  the  money  was  all 
accounted  for.  The  government  predvoditel  arose,  and  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  thanked  the  nobility  for  their  trust.  The 
nobles  loudly  congratulated  him,  and  shook  hands  with  him. 
But  at  this  time  one  noble  (dcoridnin)  belonging  to  Sergei 
Ivanovitch's  party  declared  that  he  had  heard  that  the  Com- 
mission for  the  verification  of  the  accounts  had  not  performed 
its  work  properly.  One  of  the  members  of  the  Commission 
unguardedly  admitted  this.  Then  a  very  small  and  very 
young  looking  but  very  sarcastic  gentleman  began  to  say 
that  it  would  probably  be  agreeable  for  the  governmentpred- 
voditel  to  give  an  account  of  his  expenditures,  and  that  the 
superfluous  delicacy  of  that  member  of  the  Commission  de- 
prived him  of  this  pleasant  recreation.  Then  the  members 
of  the  Commission  resigned,  and  Sergei  Ivanovitch  began 
logically  to  prove  that  it  was  necessary  either  to  accept  the 
verification  or  to  refuse  it.  A  chatterer  from  the  opposite 
party  replied  to  Sergei  Ivanovitch.  Then  Sviazhsky  spoke, 
and  was  followed  by  the  sarcastic  gentleman.  The  proceed- 
ings were  tedious,  and  no  end  was  reached.  Levin  was  sur- 
prised that  they  discussed  this  so  long,  and  all  the  more, 
because  when  he  asked  .Sergei  Ivanovitch  whether  Snetkof 
were  suspected  of  peculation,  he  replied:  "Not  at  all; 
he's  a  verj-  worthy  man.  But  we  must  put  an  end  to  this 
patriarchal  way  of  managing  business." 

On  the  fifth  day  occurred  the  election  of  the  district  mar- 
shal. The  session  was  a  stormy  one  in  many  particulars. 
In  the  district  (uyezd)  of  Sel6znevskoe,  Sviazhsky  was  unan- 
imously elected,  and  he  gave  a  grand  dinner  the  same  evening. 

XXVII. 

THE  principal  election,  that  of  marshal  of  the  Department, 
did  not  take  place  until  the  sixth  day.  The  great  hall  and 
the  little  hall  were  crowded  with  nobles  in  their  uniforms. 
Many  came  for  this  only.  Acquaintances  who  had  not  met  for 
years  were  there,  some  from  the  Krimea,  some  from  Peters- 
burg, some  from  abroad.  The  debates  were  carried  on  under 
the  Emperor's  portrait.  It  could  be  seen  very  quickly  that 
the  deputy-noblemen,  who  were  gathered  in  the  two  halls 
and  in  the  corriders,  were  divided  into  two  groups,  the  old 


ANNA   KARENINA.  621 

school  and  the  new.  The  old  school  wore  for  the  most  part 
either  old  court  uniforms  buttoned  up,  with  swords,  and  an- 
cient hats,  or  else  their  marine,  cavalry,  or  infantry  uniforms 
of  very  ancient  date.  The  uniforms  of  the  old  nobles  were 
made  in  the  ancient  style,  with  epaulettes  on  the  shoulders,  and 
with  short  waists  and  tight  arm-holes,  as  if  their  possessors 
had  grown  a  good  deal ;  but  the  new  deputies  wore  uniforms 
with  broad  shoulders,  long  waists,  and  white  waistcoats,  and 
among  them  were  several  court  uniforms. 

Levin  had  followed  his  brother  into  the  small  hall,  where 
men  were  smoking  and  lunching.  He  listened,  and  tried  to 
follow  the  conversation  of  those  who  were  talking.  Sergei 
Ivanovitch  was  the  centre,  around  whom  a  number  of  men 
were  grouped.  Levin,  as  he  heard  what  was  said,  could  not 
understand  why  two  district  marshals,  opposed  to  Snetkof, 
were  willing  to  put  him  up  as  candidate. 

Step:in  Arkadyevitch,  who  had  been  taking  a  snack,  came 
and  joined  this  group,  wiping  his  mouth  with  a  perfumed 
and  embroidered  cambric  handkerchief.  He  wore  his  cham- 
berlain's uniform. 

"  We  hold  the  situation,"  said  he,  twirling  both  his  side- 
whiskers,  tl  Sergei  Ivanovitch;"  and  after  he  heard  Sviazh- 
sky's  plan,  he  agreed  with  him. 

"  One  district  is  enough,  but  let  Sviazhsky  pretend  to  be 
in  opposition  ;  "  and  all  except  Levin  understood  the  mean- 
ing of  his  words. 

"  Well,  how  is  Kostia?  "  he  said,  turning  to  Levin.  'l  So 
you  came,  it  seems,  in  style." 

In  order  to  enlighten  himself,  he  took  the  arm  of  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  going  a  few  steps  from  the  rest,  and  expressed 
to  him  his  astonishment  at  seeing  the  hostile  districts  asking 
the  old  marshal  to  stand  as  candidate. 

"0  sancta  simplicitus!"  implied  Oblonsky  ;  "don't  you  see 
that,  since  our  measures  are  taken,  Snetkof  must  stand  ;  for, 
if  he  should  not,  the  old  party  would  choose  a  candidate, 
and  overthrow  our  plans.  If  Sviazhsky's  district  makes  no 
opposition,  then  Snetkof  will  be  put  up,  and  we  shall  take 
advantage  of  it  to  propose  our  candidate." 

Levin  understood,  but  not  entirely ;  and  he  was  about  to 
ask  some  more  questions,  when  suddenly  a  great  tumult  and 
shouting  was  heard  in  the  large  hall.  Levin  heard  the  words 
'•Law  —  authority  —  judgment  —  who  —  for  what,"  spoken 
on  every  side ;  and  with  the  rest  he  hurried  into  the  large 


622  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

hall,  anxious  not  to  lose  anything  that  was  going  on,  and 
surveyed  the  throng  of  nobles.  He  worked  his  way  up  to 
the  speaker's  desk,  where  the  government  predvoditel,  Sviazh- 
sky,  and  other  party  leaders  were  angrily  discussing. 

XXVIII. 

LEVIN  stood  at  quite  a  distance.  It  was  hard  for  him  to 
hear,  as  on  one  side  was  one  noble,  breathing  sterterously, 
and  on  the  other,  another,  with  creaking  boots.  He  could 
only  distinguish  the  old  marshal's  gentle  voice,  then  the 
sharp  voice  of  the  sarcastic  gentleman,  and  then  the  voice  of 
Sviazhsky.  He  could  only  distinguish  that  they  were  disput- 
ing about  the  meaning  of  _a  clause  of  the  law,  and  the  words 
"  nakhodivshagosa  pod  slyedstviem." 

The  crowd  parted  to  let  Sergei  Ivanovitch  get  to  the  table. 
Sergei  Ivanovitch,  after  waiting  till  the  sarcastic  gentleman 
was  done  speaking,  said  that  it  seemed  to  him  that  it  would 
be  a  better  way  to  consult  the  law  itself,  and  he  asked  the 
secretary  to  read  the  text  of  the  law.  The  law  said  that  "  a 
ballot  must  be  taken  in  case  of  divergence  of  opinion." 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  began  to  explain  this  ;  but  a  tall,  fat 
pomyeshchik  (proprietor),  with  a  dyed  moustache,  and  dressed 
in  a  tight  uniform,  with  a  high  collar  propping  up  his  chin, 
interrupted  him,  and  approached  the  table,  crying,  — 

"The  ballot!  the  ballot!  down  with  discussions  !  the  bal- 
lot ! " 

Immediately  many  voices  arose ;  and  the  tall  man  with  the 
ring,  getting  more  and  more  angry,  screamed  louder  and 
louder.  It  was  impossible  to  distinguish  what  he  said.  He 
said  exactly  what  Sergei  Ivanovitch  proposed,  but  evidently 
he  was  opposed  to  him  and  all  his  party.  The  clamor  grew 
tumultuous.  The  marshal  was  obliged  to  beg  for  silence. 
Shouts  went  up  from  all  sides  :  "The  ballot !  the  ballot !  That 
man  knows  what  he  is  talking  about !  There'll  be  blood- 
shed !  Give  us  the  ballot !  "  and  faces  as  well  as  voices  be- 
came angry  and  threatening.  Levin  understood,  with  his 
brother's  aid,  that  the  trouble  was  about  validating  the  elec- 
toral rights  of  one  of  the  deputies,  accused  of  being  under 
sentence.  His  brother  put  it  for  him  in  the  form  of  a  syllo- 
gism :  it  was  necessary  for  the  public  good  that  the  govern- 
ment predvoditel  be  defeated ;  to  defeat  the  predvoditel,  a 
majority  of  votes  was  needed  ;  in  order  to  get  a  majority  of 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  623 

votes  it  was  necessary  to  give  Flerof  his  vote  ;  and  to  decide 
upon  the  legality  of  Flerof  s  voice  it  was  necessary  to  proceed 
as  the  law  laid  down. 

"  One  voice  may  decide  the  whole  matter,  and  it  is  neces- 
sary to  be  logical  and  serious,  if  you  want  to  serve  in  a  public 
capacity,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  in  conclusion. 

But  Levin  forgot  this,  and  it  pained  him  to  see  this  un- 
pleasant irritation  taking  possession  of  men  whom  he  es- 
teemed ;  and,  instead  of  waiting  till  the  end  of  the  election, 
he  went  into  the  smaller  hall,  where  there  was  no  one  but  the 
servants  who  served  at  the  buffet.  Seeing  the  busy  servants, 
and  their  contented,  lively  faces,  Levin  felt  a  strange  feeling 
of  relief;  he  had  come  into  a  purer  atmosphere.  He  began  to 
walk  back  and  forth,  watching  the  servants.  It  pleased  him 
greatly  when  one  of  the  servants,  an  old  man  with  gray  side- 
whiskers,  expressed  his  unbounded  scorn  for  the  younger 
ones,  who  stood  in  awe  of  him,  and  began  to  teach  them  the 
best  way  of  folding  napkins.  Levin  was  just  about  to  engage 
the  old  servant  in  conversation,  when  the  Secretary  of  the 
Assembly,  a  little  old  man  who  made  a  specialty  of  knowing 
all  the  nobles  of  the  province  by  their  full  names,  came  to 
call  him. 

"Excuse  me,  Konstantin  Dmitrich,"  said  he;  "your 
brdtets  [little  brother]  is  asking  for  you.  Your  vote  is 
wanted." 

Levin  went  into  the  hall,  took  a  little  white  ball,  and,  fol- 
lowing close  behind  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  he  went  to  the  table 
where  Sviazhsky  was  standing,  with  an  important  and  iron- 
ical air,  running  his  beard  through  his  hand  and  occasion- 
ally smelling  it.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  put  his  ball  into  the 
ballot-box,  and  made  room  for  Levin  ;  but  Levin  did  not 
know  what  the  voting  was  for,  was  disconcerted,  and  asked 
his  brother : 

"Where  shall  I  put  it?" 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  as  there  was  talking  near  him, 
he  hoped  that  his  question  would  not  be  overheard ;  but  the 
speakers  stopped,  and  his  unfortunate  question  was  heard. 
Sergei  Ivanovitch  frowned,  and  replied  sternly,  — 

'•  This  is  a  matter  entirely  of  conviction." 

A  number  of  the  bystanders  smiled.  Much  embarrassed, 
Levin  quickly  cast  his  vote,  and  as  he  happened  to  hold  it  in 
his  right  hand,  he  threw  it  into  the  right-hand  receptacle. 
When  it  was  too  late,  he  discovered  that  he  had  voted  wrong, 


624  ANNA   KAR&NIXA. 

and  still  more  confused,  he  retired  to  the  back  of  the  hall. 
Tiie  election  was  very  close,  but  the  new  party  won  the  da)*. 
The  old  party,  however,  did  not  acknowledge  its  defeat.  Levin 
heard  something  about  voting  for  Suetkof ,  and  then  he  saw 
a  throng  of  nobles  surrounding  the  predvoditel,  who  was  say- 
ing something.  Approaching,  Levin  heard  him  making  a 
farewell  speech  to  his  constituents,  whom  he  had  served  for 
twenty  years.  It  was  an  effecting  farewell,  and  suddenly  he 
stopped,  choked  by  tears,  and  hurried  from  the  hall.  These 
tears  arose  either  from  the  injustice  that  had  been  done  him, 
or  from  his  love  for  the  nobles,  or  possibly  from  the  unpleas- 
ant position  in  which  he  was  placed,  finding  himself  sur- 
rounded by  enemies ;  but  his  grief  was  contagious ;  the 
nobles  were  touched,  and  Levin  felt  sorry  for  him. 

At  the  door  the  government  predvoditel  met  Levin. 

"Excuse  me, — I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  as  to  a 
stranger ;  then  recognizing  him,  he  smiled  a  melancholy 
smile.  The  expression  of  his  face  and  the  whole  man  in  his 
uniform,  with  his  crosses  and  white  pantaloons,  as  he  hastened 
out,  reminded  Levin  of  some  hunted  animal.  This  expres- 
sion went  to  Levin's  heart,  for  only  the  day  before  he  had 
been  to  see  him  about  the  guardianship  affair,  and  he  recalled 
the  dignified  bearing  of  the  old  man.  It  was  a  great,  lordly 
house,  with  ancestral  furniture,  old  servants,  who  had  evidently 
been  formerly  serfs,  and  the  khozyd'ika,  a  tall,  benevolent 
lady  in  her  lace  cap  and  Turkish  shawl,  who  was  caressing  her 
lovely  grand-daughter.  The  youngest  son,  a  boy  in  the 
sixth  class  of  the  gymnasium,  had  come  in  to  wish  his  father 
good-morning  and  to  kiss  his  hand  affectionately.  All  this 
came  back  to  Levin,  and  he  pitied  him,  and  tried  to  say 
something  to  comfort  him. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  be  our  predvoditel  again." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  Snetkof  with  his  scared  look.  "  I  am 
tired,  getting  old.  There  are  younger  and  better  men  than 
I.  Must  let  them  take  my  place."  And  he  disappeared  by  a 
side  door. 

XXIX. 

THE  long,  narrow  hall  where  the  buffet  was,  began  to  fill 
with  people,  and  the  excitement  increased,  for  the  decisive 
moment  was  approaching. 

The  party-chiefs,  who  knew  how  to  get  a  hold  on  the  ma- 
jority of  the  voters,  were  the  most  active  ;  the  others  sought 


ANNA   KAR£yixA.  625 


diversion,  and  prepared  for  the  contest  by  eating,  smoking, 
and  pacing  the  hall  in  conversation  with  their  acquaintances. 

Levin  did  not  smoke,  and  was  not  hungry  ;  and  he  pre- 
ferred to  avoid  his  friends,  that  is,  Sergei  Ivauovitch,  Stepau 
Arkadyevitch,  Sviazhsky,  and  others,  because  he  had  just 
caught  sight  of  Vronsky  in  the  uniform  of  Emperor's  equerry. 
So  he  took  refuge  near  a  window,  and  sat  down,  watching 
the  various  groups,  and  listening  to  what  was  said  around 
him.  He  was  mortified  because  all,  as  he  saw,  were  alive  and 
taking  action  ;  but  he  alone,  with  the  exception  of  a  very 
old,  toothless  gentleman  in  a  naval  uniform,  who  sat  near 
him,  was  wanting  in  intei'est  and  occupation. 

In  the  midst  of  the  crowd  he  distinguished,  in  the  old-style 
uniform  of  major-general,  the  country  gentleman  with  a  gray 
moustache  whom  he  had  met  before  at  Sviazhsky's.  Their 
eyes  met,  and  the}'  greeted  one  another  cordially. 

"  This  is  very  agreeable,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  Yes 
indeed  !  I  remember  very  well  having  met  you  last  year  at 
the  house  of  Nikolai'  I  van  itch." 

"  Nu!  How  goes  your  estate  [khozyd'istvo]  f" 

"  Da!  all  going  to  destruction,"  replied  the  old  gentleman 
quietly,  and  with  a  satisfied  air,  as  if  this  were  the  result  he 
had  always  expected.  "  And  you,  how  does  it  happen  that 
you  are  taking  part  in  our  coup  d'&tat?  All  Russia  seems 
to  have  assembled  here.  We  have  even  chamberlains,  and 
perhaps  ministers,"  said  he,  pointing  to  Oblonsky,  whose  tall 
and  imposing  figure  made  quite  a  sensation. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  replied  Levin,  ''  I  don't  understand  why 
these  noblemen's  elections  are  considered  so  important." 

The  old  gentleman  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Da!  What  is  there  to  understand?  what  importance  can 
they  have  ?  It's  a  decaying  institution  which  prolongs  itself 
by  the  force  of  inertia.  Look  at  all  these  uniforms  j  you  see 
justices  of  the  peace,  clerks,  but  no  noblemen." 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  attend  the  assemblies?" 

"  From  habit,  to  keep  up  relations  ;  from  a  sort  of  moral 
obligation.  Besides,  I  came  on  a  question  of  personal 
interest.  My  son-in-law  needs  a  push  ;  I  must  try  to  help 
him  to  get  a  place.  But  why  do  such  people  as  that  come?" 
and  he  pointed  out  the  orator  whose  sharp  voice  had  struck 
Levin  during  the  debates  preceding  the  vote. 

"  It  is  a  new  generation  of  dvorianstvo  "  [noblesse]. 

"  Certainly  new,  but  not  dvorianstvo.      They  are   land- 


626  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

holders,  but  we  are  the  pomyeshchiks.  But  they  are  trying 
to  get  the  power  as  though  they  were  nobles." 

"  Then  you  think  it  un  institution  which  is  falling  into 
decay?" 

"  There  are  ancient  institutions  which  deserve  to  be 
respected  and  treated  gently.  We  may  not  be  worth  much, 
but,  nevertheless,  we  have  lasted  a  thousand  years.  Suppose 
you  lay  out  a  new  garden,  are  you  going  to  cut  down  the 
century-old  tree  which  has  grown  up  on  your  land?  No; 
you  will  lay  out  your  walks  and  your  flower-beds  in  such  a 
way  as  to  preserve  intact  the  old  oak.  That  institution  will 
not  b"e  suppressed  in  one  year.  Nu!  but  how  goes  your 
Jchoyd'istvo'/" 

"  Da!  not  very  brilliant;  only  five  per  cent." 

"  But  you  don't  reckon  your  own  trouble ;  isn't  that 
worth  something?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  this  much  :  I  work  a  great  deal  harder  than  I 
did  when  there  was  surface,  and  yet  I  get  only  five  per  cent., 
and  thank  God  for  that.  But  my  labor  is  all  gratuitous." 

"  Why  do  we  go  on,  then,  if  it  is  all  loss?  " 

"Yes,  why?  From  habit,  I  suppose,"  replied  the  pom- 
y£shchiki  leaning  his  elbow  on  the  window-sill.  '"  I  will  tell 
you  something  more  :  my  only  son  is  going  to  be  a  scholar, 
and  not  a  farmer.  I  go  on  in  spite  of  it  all !  Here  I  have 
just  planted  an  orchard  this  year." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Levin  ;  "  this  is  very  true.  For  my  part,  I 
haven't  deluded  myself  as  to  any  profits  of  my  labor,  for 
some  time  past.  But  one  feels  a  sort  of  obligation  to  tke 
earth." 

ilDavot!  I  will  tell  you  still  another  thing.  A  neigh- 
bor," said  the  old  gentleman,  "  a  merchant,  came  to  see  me. 
We  went  over  the  farm,  and  then  the  garden.  ^  Nu!  Stepan 
VasilyeVitch,  your  place  is  in  order,'  said  he,  '  but  your 
garden  has  too  much  shade.'  But  he  found  it  in  order,  mind 
you.  'My  advice  would  be,  cut  down  that  linden.  They 
only  exhaust  the  ground.  Here's  a  thousand  lindens.  Each 
one  will  make  two  excellent  basts,  and  basts  sell  well.  If  I 
were  you,  I  would  cut  some  of  'em  down.'" 

"He  certainly  would,"  said  Levin,  smiling,  for  he  knew 
what  these  common-sense  people  were.  "  And  with  the 
money  he  would  buy  cattle,  or  perhaps  a  bit  of  ground,  which 
he  would  lease  to  the  peasants.  And  so  he  makes  a  fortune. 
But  you  and  I  thank  God  if  we  keep  our  land,  and  are  able 
to  leave  it  to  our  children." 


ANNA    KAEtiNINA.  627 

"•  You  are  married,  I  think? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Levin,  with  proud  satisfaction.  "Da  !  it  is 
wonderful !  We  live  without  making  any  profit,  obliged,  like 
ancient  vestals,  to  watch  some  hoi}'  tire." 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  under  his  white  moustache. 

"  Some  people,  like  our  friend  Sviazhsky  and  Couut 
Vronsky,  pretend  to  make  something  by  agriculture  ;•  but  so 
far  they  have  only  succeeded  in  eating  into  their  capital." 

"  Why  shouldn't  we  do  like  the  merchants,  cut  down  our 
gardens  for  linden  bast?"  asked  Levin,  struck  by  the  idea. 

"Da  vot!  because  we  guard  the  sacred  fire,  as  you  say. 
It  is  not  the  business  of  the  dvorianstvo.  And  our  work 
lies  not  here  in  these  elections,  but  at  home  in  our  corner. 
It  is  a  caste  instinct  that  tells  us  what  is  necessary  or  not 
necessary.  The  muzhiks  have  theirs ;  a  good  muzhik  will 
persist  in  hiring  as  much  land  as  he  can.  No  matter  how 
bad  it  is,  he  will  work  it  just  the  same,  —  even  without  profit." 

4' We  are  all  alike,"  said  Levin.  "Very,  very  glad  to 
have  met  you  !  "  he  added,  seeing  Sviazhsky  approaching. 

"  Here  we  have  met  for  the  first  time  since  we  were  to- 
gether at  your  house,"  said  the  pomyeshchik  to  Sviazhsky. 
"  Da!  and  we  have  been  having  a  talk." 

"  And  doubtless  have  been  slandering  the  new  order  of 
things?"  said  Sviazhsky,  smiling. 

"  One  must  relieve  one's  mind." 


XXX. 

SVIAZHSKY  took  Levin's  arm,  and  together  they  approached 
a  group  of  their  friends. 

It  was  now  impossible  to  avoid  Vronsky.  He  was  stand- 
ing between  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  and  Sergei  Ivauovitch,  and 
was  looking  straight  at  Levin  as  he  came  along. 

"  Delighted  !  "  said  he,  offering  his  hand  to  Levin.  "  We 
met  at  the  Princess  Shcherbatskai'a's,  didn't  we  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  remember  our  meeting  perfectly,"  .^answered 
Levin,  growing  purple  ;  and  he  immediately  turned  to  speak 
to  his  brother.  Vronsky,  smiling  slightly,  began  to  talk  with 
Sviazhsky,  apparently  having  no  desire  to  continue  his  talk 
with  Levin.  But  Levin,  while  he  was  speaking  with  his 
brother,  looked  at  Vronsky.  trying  to  think  of  something  to 
say  to  him  to  make  up  for  his  rudeness. 


628  ANNA  KAR&N7NA. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on?  "  he  asked,  turning  to  Sviazh- 
sky  and  Vronsky. 

"  Snetkof  seems  to  be  hesitating,"  replied  Sviazhsky. 

"  What  will  he  do,  consent  or  not?" 

"That  is  where  the  trouble  lies  —  neither  one  thing  or 
another,"  said  Vronsky. 

"  But*  whom  will  they  ballot  for,  if  he  gives  up?"  asked 
Levin,  looking  at  Vronsky. 

"Whoever  they  please,"  answered  Sviazhsky. 

"  You,  perhaps." 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Sviazhsky,  scowling  and  throw- 
ing a  disturbed  look  at  the  sarcastic  gentleman  who  was 
standing  near  Koznuishef. 

"  Who,  then  ?  Nevyedovsky  ?"  continued  Levin,  feeling  that 
he  was  treading  on  dangerous  ground.  But  his  second  guess 
was  worse  than  the  first ;  Nevyedovsky  and  Sviazhsky  were 
the  two  candidates. 

"By  no  means,"  replied  the  sarcastic  gentleman.  It  was 
Nevyedovsky  himself.  Sviazhsky  hastened  to  introduce  him 
to  Levin. 

A  silence  followed,  during  which  Vronsky,  since  it  was 
necessary  to  look  at  something,  looked  at  Levin,  at  his  legs, 
at  his  uniform,  and  then  at  his  face  ;  and  seeing  the  gloomy 
look  in  his  63*68,  said,  for  the  sake  of  saying  something,  — 

"  How  is  it  that  you  who  live  in  the  country  are  not  a  justice 
of  the  peace?  Your  uniform  is  not  that  of  a  justice,  I  see." 

"  Because  I  think  that  justices  of  the  peace  are  an  absurd 
institution,"  answered  Levin  gloomily,  but  all  the  time  hop- 
ing for  an  opportunity  to  atone  for  his  former  rudeness. 

"I  do  not  think  so;  on  the  contrary," —  said  Vronsky, 
surprised. 

"  Child's  play,"  said  Levin,  interrupting  ;  "  justices  of  the 
peace  are  no  good  !  In  eight  years  I  never  once  have  known 
one  to  make  a  proper  decision.  There's  a  justice  of  the  peace 
not  far  from  me.  I  had  a  debt  amounting  to  two  rubles  ; 
when  I  got  through  with  him,  it  had  cost  fifteen  ; "  and  went 
on  to  tell  how  a  muzhik  stole  some  flour  from  a  miller,  and 
when  the^niller  charged  him  with  it,  the  muzhik  made  a  cal- 
umnious complaint.  All  this  was  not  to  the  point,  and 
awkwardly  put,  and  Levin  himself,  while  speaking,  felt  it. 

"Oh,  this  is  such  an  original! "  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
with  his  amygdaline  smile.  "Come  on;  it  seems  they  are 
balloting." 


ANNA  KARtfNINA.  629 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  noticing 
his  brother's  awkward  sally,  "  I  don't  understand  how  it  is 
possible  to  be  so  absolutely  devoid  of  political  tact.  It  is 
just  what  we  Russians  lack.  The  government  predvoditel — 
our  opponent  —  you  are  ami  cochon  [on  intimate  terms]  with 
him.  But  Count  Vronsky  —  not  that  I  make  a  friend  of 
him  —  I  have  just  refused  his  invitation  to  dinner;  but  he 
is  ours,  and  why  on  earth  make  him  an  enemy?  Then  you 
asked  Nevyedovsky  if  he  was  going  to  be  a  candidate.  It 
isn't  the  way  to  do." 

"Ach!  I  don't  understand  anything  about  it;  it  is  all 
humbuggery  !  "  said  Levin  angrily. 

"  Here  you  say  that  this  is  all  humbuggery  ;  but  when  you 
touch  it,  see  what  a  botch  you  make  of  it." 

Levin  was  silent,  and  they  entered  the  large  hall. 

The  old  predvoditel  had  decided  to  be  a  candidate  although 
he  felt  in  the  atmosphere  that  there  was  some  trick  in  prepa- 
ration, and  though  he  knew  that  at  least  one  district  would 
be  opposed  to  him.  At  the  first  ballot  the  rotmistr  gvurdi, 
Mikhail  Stepanovitch  Snetkof,  had  a  decided  majority,  and 
when  he  came  in,  the  nobles  pressed  around  him,  congratu- 
lating him. 

"  jjftt/  is  it  over?"  asked  Levin  of  Sergei  Ivanovitch. 

"  On  the  contrary,  it  is  just  begun,"  replied  Sviazhsky, 
taking  the  words  out  of  his  brother's  mouth,  and  smiling. 
"  The  opposition  candidate  may  have  more  votes." 

Levin  had  forgotten  all  about  this,  and  only  now  realized 
that  this  was  only  finessing,  and  it  plunged  him  into  a  sort 
of  melancholy.  Thinking  himself  useless  and  unnoticed,  he 
slipped  out  into  the  smaller  hall,  where,  as  before,  he  found 
consolation  in  watching  the  servants.  The  old  servant  asked 
if  he  would  have  something,  and  Levin  consented.  After  he 
had  eaten  a  cutlet  with  beans,  and  had  talked  with  the 
servants  about  their  former  masters,  Levin,  not  caring  to 
go  back  to  the  crowd  which  was  so  unpleasant  to  him, 
walked  about  the  galleries.  They  were  full  of  well-dressed 
ladies,  who  were  leaning  over  the  balustrades  endeavoring 
not  to  lose  a  word  that  was  said  in  the  hall  below,  and 
around  them  was  standing  and  sitting  a  throng  of  lawyers, 
professors  of  the  gymnasiums,  inspectors,  and  officers.  As 
Levin  stood  near  one  group,  he  heard  a  lady  saying  to  a 
lawyer,  "  How  glad  I  am  that  I  heard  Koznuishef,"  and 
she  went  on  to  praise  his  eloquence.  Levin  looked  and 


630  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

listened  and  tried  to  understand  what  it  all  meant,  and 
when  he  found  it  was  impossible,  he  felt  dull ;  anil  as  he  saw 
the  excitement  and  anger  on  all  faces,  he  felt  still  more  sad. 
He  made  tip  his  mind  to  leave,  and  went  down-stairs.  As 
he  went  down,  trying  to  find  the  number  of  his  shuba,  the 
secretary  again  discovered  him. 

"  Excuse  me,  Konstantin  Dmitriy^vitch,  they  are  bal- 
loting." And  the  candidate  who  was  now  receiving  votes 
was  this  very  Nevyedovsky  whose  refusal  had  seemed  to 
him  so  explicit. 

Levin  started  to  go  into  the  hall.  The  door  was  locked, 
and  as  the  secretary  opened  it  for  him,  he  ran  plump  into 
two  very  red-faced  pomyeshchiks. 

"  I  cannot  endure  it,"  said  one  of  the  red-faced  pom- 
yeshchiks. 

Immediately  behind  the  pomyeshchik  was  the  old  govern- 
ment predcoditel.  His  face  was  terrible  in  its  expression  of 
fright  and  weakness. 

"  I  told  you  not  to  let  any  one  go  out! "  he  shouted  to 
the  guard. 

"I  let  some  one  in,  your  Excellency"  [vashe  prevos- 
khoditelstco]. 

"  Gospodi!"  [Oh,  Lord],  and  sighing  painfully,  the  old 
predvoditel,  slinking  along  in  his  white  pantaloons,  with 
bowed  head,  went  through  the  hall  to  the  great  table. 

The  vote  was  counted,  and  Nevyedovsky,  as  had  been 
planned,  was  government  predvoditel.  Many  were  happy  ; 
many  were  satisfied,  gay ;  many  were  enthusiastic ;  many 
were  dissatisfied  and  unhappy.  The  old  predvoditel  was  in 
despair  and  could  not  disguise  it.  When  Nevyedovsky  went 
out  of  the  hall,  the  throng  surrounded  him  and  expressed 
their  enthusiasm  towards  him  as  they  had  done  towards  the 
governor  when  he  opened  the  election,  and  as  they  had  done 
towards  Snetkof  when  he  was  elected. 

XXXI. 

ON  this  day,  the  newly  elected  government  predvoditel,  and 
many  of  the  new  party  which  triumphed  with  him,  dined  with 
Vronsky. 

The  count  came  to  the  elections  because  it  was  tiresome 
in  the  country,  and  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  assert  his  in- 
dependence before  Anna,  and  also  because  he  wished  to 


ANNA    KARENINA.  631 

render  a  service  to  Sviazhsky^  in  return  for  similar  favors 
shown  him,  and  last  and  principally,  because  he  intended 
strictly  to  fulfil  the  duties  which  he  imposed  upon  himself  as 
large  proprietor.  But  he  had  never  anticipated  the  intense 
interest  which  he  would  take  in  the  elections  nor  the  success 
with  which  he  would  play  his  part.  He  was  one  of  the 
youngest  men  among  the  nobles,  but  he  succeeded  from  the 
first  in  winning  general  good-fellowship,  and  he  was  not  mis- 
taken in  supposing  that  he  already  inspired  confidence.  This 
sudden  influence  was  due  to  his  wealth  and  distinction,  to  the 
fine  house  which  he  occupied  in  town,  —  a  house  which  an  old 
friend  of  his,  Shirkof,  the  director  of  the  Kashin  bank,  had 
given  up  to  him,  —  and  partly  to  an  excellent  cook  whom  he 
brought  with  him.  and  to  his  friendship  with  the  governor ; 
but  above  all  to  his  simple  and  friendly  manners,  which  won 
hearts  for  him  in  spite  of  the  reputation  he  had  acquired  of 
being  proud.  He  himself  felt  that  with  the  exception  of  this 
silly  gentleman  who  had  married  Kitty  Shcherbatskaia,  and 
who  h  propos  de  bottes  [without  reason]  had  been  disposed 
foolishly  to  quarrel  with  him  and  say  all  manner  of  foolish 
tilings  to  everybody  whom  he  met,  was  disposed  to  pay  him 
homage,  and  to  attribute  to  him  Ncvyedovsky's  success.  He 
felt  a  certain  pride  in  saying  to  himself  that  in  three  years, 
if  he  were  married,  nothing  should  prevent  him  from  present- 
ing himself  at  the  elections  ;  and  he  involuntarily  remembered 
the  day,  when,  after  having  won  a  prize  by  means  of  his 
jockey,  he  decided  to  run  a  race  himself. 

Now  he  was  celebrating  the  triumph  of  his  jockey.  Yron- 
sky  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  but  he  placed  the  young 
governor  at  his  right.  Vronsky  saw  that  all  looked  upon  him 
as  the  klwzyd'in  of  the  government  who  had  triumphantly 
opened  the  elections,  who  had  gained  by  his  speech  great  con- 
sideration and  even  worship  ;  but  for  Vronsky,  he  was  noth- 
ing more  than  Maslof  Katka,  a  comrade  of  the  corps  of 
pages,  who  now  was  confused  in  his  presence,  and  whom 
he  tried  mettre  d,  son  aise  (to  put  at  his  ease.)  At  his  left  he 
placed  Xevvedovsky,  a  young  man  with  a  disdainful  and 
impenetrable  face,  for  whom  he  showed  much  regard. 
Sviazhsky  accepted  his  own  failure  gayly ;  indeed,  as 
he  said,  lifting  his  glass  to  Nevyedovsky,  he  could  not  call  it 
a  failure,  since  he  had  the  delight  of  seeing  his  party  triumph. 

During  dinner  he  repeated  in  a  most  comical  way  the  old 
predvoditeT  s  affecting  speech,  and  advised  the  new  incumbent 


632  ANNA   KAREN IX A. 

to  find  some  other  way  of  verifying  the  accounts.  Other 
episodes  of  the  election  were  related,  and  a  humorous  noble 
told  how  lackeys  in  short  clothes  were  excluded  from  the  balls 
given  b}'  the  late  predvoditel  and  advised  the  new  predvoditel 
to  give  a  ball  with  lackeys  in  short  clothes.  Stepau  Arkadye- 
vitch  was  also  gay,  because  the  day  had  passed  so  well  and 
because  everybody  was  satisfied,  and  after  dinner,  when 
despatches  were  being  sent  off  in  all  directions,  announcing 
tlie  result  of  the  elections,  he  sent  one  to  Darya  Aleksan- 
drovna,  "to  please  them  all,"  as  he  confided  to  his  neigh- 
bors. But  when  Dolly  received  the  telegram  she  sighed  and 
lamented  the  ruble  it  had  cost ;  and  she  understood  that  her 
husband  had  dined  well,  for  it  was  one  of  Stiva's  weak- 
nesses to  faire  jouer  le  teleyraphe  (make  the  telegraph  play) 
after  a  heart}'  dinner. 

They  gave  toasts  with  excellent  wine  which  had  nothing 
Russian  about  it ;  they  greeted  the  new  marshal  with  the  title 
of  "  excellency"  (vashe  prevoskhoditelstvo) ,  a  title  with  which. 
in  spite  of  his  indifferent  air,  he  was  as  pleased  as  a  newly 
married  woman  is  to  hear  herself  called  "  Madame."  The 
health  of  "our  amiable  host"  was  also  drunk,  as  well  as  the 
governor's  and  the  director  of  the  bank.  Vronsky  was  con- 
tented. He  never  expected  to  find  in  the  provinces  distin- 
guished society. 

Towards  the  end  of  dinner  the  gayety  redoubled,  and  the 
governor  asked  Vronsky  to  attend  a  concert,  organized  by 
his  wife  for  the  benefit  of  the  brotherhood.  This  was  before 
the  war  with  Serbia. 

"There  will  be  a  ball  afterwards,  and  you  shall  see  our 
beauty.  In  fact,  she  is  remarkable." 

"  Not  in  my  line"  answered  Vronsky  in  English,  smiling  ; 
but  he  promised  to  go. 

Just  as  they  were  lighting  their  cigars,  on  leaving  the  table, 
Vronsky's  valet  approached  him,  bringing  a  note  on  a  tray. 

"  From  Vozdvizhenskoe,  by  a  special  messenger,"  said  the 
man,  with  a  significaivt  expression. 

The  note  was  from  Anna,  and  Vronsky  knew,  before  he 
broke  the  seal,  what  was  in  it.  He  had  promised,  as  the 
elections  were  to  last  five  days,  to  return  on  Wednesday,  but 
it  was  now  Saturday,  and  he  knew  that  the  letter  would  be 
full  of  reproaches  because  he  had  not  fulfilled  his  promise. 
The  one  he  sent  off  the  day  before  to  explain  his  delay  had 
evidently  not  been  received.  The  tenor  of  the  note  was  what 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  633 

he  expected  ;  but  its  form  was  a  great  surprise,  and  extremely 
unpleasant  to  him.  Ani  was  very  sick,  and  the  doctor 
feared  inflammation. 

"  I  shall  go  wild,  here  all  alone.  The  Princess  Varvara 
is  only  a  hindrance  instead  of  a  help.  I  expected  you  day 
before  yesterday  evening,  and  send  a  messenger  to  know 
what  has  become  of  you.  I  wanted  to  come  myself,  but  hes- 
itated, knowing  that  it  would  be  disagreeable  to  you.  Send 
some  answer,  that  I  may  know  what  to  do." 

The  child  was  ill,  and  she  had  wished  to  come  herself.  A 
sick  daughter,  and  this  hostile  tone  ! 

The  contrast  between  this  exacting  love  and  the  jolly  com- 
pany struck  Vronsky  with  great  force ;  but  he  felt  obliged 
to  go,  and  he  left  by  the  first  train  that  night. 

XXXII. 

BKFORE  Vronsky 's  departure  for  the  elections  Anna  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  endure  the  separation  very  stoically  ; 
but  the  cold,  imperious  look  with  which  he  informed  her  that 
he  was  going  away  wounded  her,  and  her  good  resolutions 
were  shaken  by  it.  It  was  in  this  humiliating  wa}"  that  she 
interpreted  the  look  in  her  solitude. 

"  He  has  the  right  to  go  when  and  where  he  pleases.  Not 
only  to  go,  but  to  abandon  me.  He  has  all  the  rights,  but  I 
have  none  !  But  as  he  knows  this,  he  ought  not  to  have  done 
this ;  yet  what  has  he  done?  He  looked  at  me  with  a  hard, 
stern  look.  Of  course,  that  is  vague,  impalpable.  Still,  he 
did  not  formerly  look  at  me  so,  and  it  teaches  me  much,"  she 
thought ;  "  that'  look  proves  that  he  is  growing  cold  towards 
me." 

She  tried  to  keep  herself  from  thinking  what  she  should  do 
if  he  abandoned  her.  She  filled  the  days  with  occupations  ; 
at  night  she  took  morphine.  To  be  sure,  there  was  one 
remedy  left.  —  not  to  keep  him  with  her  —  for  this  she  wished 
nothing  else  but  his  love  —  but  to  bind  him  to  her,  to  be  in 
such  a  relation  to  him  that  he  would  not  abandon  her.  This 
remedy  was  divorce  and  marriage  ;  and  she  began  to  desire 
it,  ami  resolved  that  when  he  or  Stiva  spoke  about  it  again, 
she  would  no  longer  resist  him  on  this  point,  as  she  had  al- 
WMVS  done  before. 

With  such  thoughts  she  spent  the  five  days  of  his  absence. 
To  kill  time,  she  walked  and  talked  with  the  Princess  Var- 


634  ANNA  KARtfNINA. 

vara,  visited  the  hospital,  and,  more  than  all,  she  read,  read 
one  book  after  another.  But  on  the  sixth  day,  when  the 
coachman  returned  without  bringing  Vrousky,  she  felt  that 
she  had  not  strength  enough  left  to  think  about  him  and 
what  he  had  done  to  her.  At  the  same  time  her  little  girl 
fell  sick.  Anna  went  to  her,  but  it  did  not  divert  her  mind, 
the  more  as  the  little  one  was  not  sick  enough  to  cause  any 
anxiety.  Do  the  best  she  could,  she  did  not  love  this  child, 
and  she  could  not  pretend  feelings  which  she  did  not  have. 

On  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day,  while  she  was  entirely 
alone,  terror  lest  Vronsky  had  deserted  her  became  so  keen, 
that  she  almost  made  up  her  mind  to  start  for  the  city 
herself,  but  after  a  long  deliberation,  she  wrote  the  note  and 
sent  it  by  a  special  messenger.  When  the  next  morning 
brought  her  word  from  Vronsky  explaining  his  delay,  she 
regretted  her  rash  move.  With  horror  she  anticipated  the 
repetition  of  that  severe  look  which  he  would  give  her  on  his 
return  —  especially  when  he  learned  that  his  daughter  had 
not  been  dangerously  sick.  Anna  now  acknowledged  to 
herself  that  he  would  miss  his  liberty,  perhaps,  and  find  his 
chain  heavy.  But  yet  she  was  glad  that  he  was  coming  ;  he 
would  be  there  with  her  so  that  she  should  see  him,  so  that 
she  should  know  his  every  motion. 

She  was  sitting  in  the  parlor,  by  the  lamp,  reading  a  new 
book  of  Taine's,  listening  to  the  sound  of  wind  outside,  and 
watching  every  moment  for  the  count's  arrival.  Several 
times  she  thought  that  she  heard  the  rumble  of  wheels,  but  she 
was  deceived.  At  last  she  distinctly  heard  not  only  the 
wheels,  but  the  coachman's  voice,  and  the  carriage  rolling 
under  the  porte  coclidre.  The  Princess  Varvara,  who  was 
playing  a  game  of  patience,  heard  it  too.  Anna  rose  ;  but 
instead  of  going  down,  as  she  had  twice  done  already,  she 
stopped.  She  was  ashamed  at  her  deceitfulness,  and  still 
more  confused  by  the  doubt  as  to  how  he  would  receive  her. 
All  her  irritation  had  vanished.  She  could  think  of  nothing 
but  Vronsky's  displeasure.  She  remembered  that  her 
daughter  for  two  days  now  had  been  perfectly  well.  She 
was  annoyed  that  the  child  should  recover  just  as  she  sent 
off  the  letter. 

And  then  she  thought  that  he  was  there,  himself ;  that 
she  should  see  his  eyes,  his  hands.  She  heard  his  voice,  and 
forgetting  everything,  joy  filled  her  heart,  and  she  ran  to 
meet  him. 


ANNA   KAEENINA.  635 

"How  is  Ani?"  he  asked  anxiously,  from  the  bottom  of 
the  stuirs,  as  she  ran  swiftly  down.  He  was  seated,  and  a 
lackey  was  pulling  off  his  furred  boots. 

"  Much  better." 

"And  you?"  he  asked,  shaking  himself. 

She  seized  his  two  hands,  and  drew  him  towards  her, 
looking  into  his  eyes. 

tl  Nu!  I  am  very  glad,"  he  said,  coldly  surveying  her,  her 
head-dress,  her  whole  toilet,  which,  as  he  knew,  had  been 
put  on  expressly  for  him. 

These  attentions  pleased  him,  but  he  was  too  much 
accustomed  to  them ;  and  that  stony,  severe  expression, 
which  Anna  so  much  dreaded,  remained  on  his  face. 

11  Nu!  I  am  very  glad;  and  how  are  you?"  he  asked, 
kissing  her  hand,  after  he  had  wiped  his  beard,  which  the 
cold  had  moistened. 

"  It  is  all  the  same  to  me,"  thought  Anna,  "  if  only  he  is 
here  ;  and  when  he  is  here  he  cannot  help  loving  me  ;  he  does 
not  dare  not  to  love  me." 

The  evening  passed  merrily  in  the  presence  of  the  Princess 
Varvara,  who  complained  to  him  that  when  he  was  away 
Anna  took  morphine. 

"  What  can  I  do?  I  cannot  sleep,  —  my  thoughts  are  dis- 
tracting ;  when  he  is  here,  I  never  take  it,  — almost  never." 

Vronsky  told  about  the  elections,  and  Anna,  by  her  ques- 
tions, cleverly  led  him  to  talk  about  what  especially  pleased 
him,  —  his  own  success.  Then  she  told  him  all  the  interesting 
things  that  had  happened  since  he  went  away,  and  took  care 
to  speak  of  nothing  unpleasant. 

When  the  evening  had  passed,  and  they  were  alone,  Anna, 
seeing  that  she  had  him  at  her  feet  again,  wished  to  efface 
the  unpleasant  effect  of  her  letter ;  she  said,  — 

"  Confess  that  you  were  displeased  about  my  letter,  and 
did  not  believe  me." 

As  soon  as  she  spoke  she  saw  that  though  he  was  affection- 
ately disposed  towards  her,  he  did  not  forgive  this. 

•'  Yes,"  answered  he,  "  your  letter  was  strange.  Ani  was 
sick,  and  yet  you  wanted  to  come  yourself." 

'•  Both  were  true." 

"  Da!  and  I  do  not  doubt  it." 

"  Yes,  you  do  doubt.     I  see  that  you  are  angry." 

'•  Not  for  one  minute  ;  but  what  vexes  me  is  that  you  will 
not  admit  that  there  are  duties  "  — 


636  ANNA   KARtfNINA. 

"  What  duties  ?     Going  to  concerts  ?  " 

"  We  won't  talk  about  it." 

"Why  not  talk  of  it?" 

"  I  only  mean  that  imperious  duties  may  meet  us.  Now, 
for  instance,  I  shall  have  to  go  to  Moscow  on  business  — 
Ach!  Anna,  why  are  you  so  irritable?  Don't  you  know  that 
I  cannot  live  without  you?" 

"If  this  is  the  way,"  said  Anna,  changing  her  tone  sud- 
denly, "  you  are  tired  of  this  kind  of  life.  Da!  you  come 
home  one  day  and  go  away  the  next  "  — 

"Anna,  this  is  cruel;  I  am  ready  to  give  up  my  whole 
life  "  — 

She  continued  without  listening  to  him,  — 

"  If  3'ou  are  going  to  Moscow,  I  shall  go  with  you  ;  I  shall 
not  stay  here  alone.  We  must  either  live  together  or 
separate." 

"  But  you  know  I  ask  nothing  more  than  to  live  with  you, 
but  for  that  it  is  necessary  "  — 

"  The  divorce?  I  will  write.  I  see  that  I  cannot  continue 
to  live  in  this  way.  But  I  am  going  with  you  to  Moscow." 

"  You  really  threaten  me  ;  but  all  I  ask  in  the  world  is  not 
to  be  separated  from  you,"  said  Vronsky,  smiling.  As  the 
count  spoke  these  affectionate  words,  the  look  in  his  eyes  was 
not  only  icy  but  wrathful,  like  that  of  a  man  persecuted  and 
exasperated.  She  saw  his  look  and  accurately  read  its 
meaning. 

"  If  this  is  so,  then  it  is  misfortune  !  "  said  this  look.  The 
expression  was  only  momentary,  but  she  never  forgot  it. 

Anna  wrote  to  her  husband  to  demand  the  divorce,  and 
towards  the  end  of  November,  after  separating  from  the 
Princess  Varvara,  who  had  to  go  to  Petersburg,  she  went  to 
Moscow  with  Vronsky.  Expecting  every  day  to  get  Aleks6i 
Aleksandrovitch's  reply  and  immediately  afterwards  to  secure 
the  divorce,  they  set  up  their  establishment  as  though  they 
were  married. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  637 


PART  VII. 

I. 

THE  Levins  had  been  in  Moscow  for  two  months,  and  the 
time  fixed  by  competent  authorities  for  Kitty's  deliverance 
was  already  passed.  Kitty's  mother  and  Dolly,  and  more  than 
all,  Levin  himself,  could  not  think  without  terror  of  the  ap- 
proaching event,  and  began  to  be  troubled  and  anxious  ;  but 
Kitty  alone  kept  wonderfully  calm  and  happy.  She  recog- 
nized in  her  heart  the  birth  of  a  new  feeling  of  love  for  the 
child  which  she  expected,  and  she  entertained  this  feeling  with 
joy.  The  child  already  existed  for  her  ;  he  even  manifested 
his  independence  at  times  by  causing  her  suffering  ;  but  this 
strange,  unknown  pain  brought  only  a  smile  to  Kitty's  lips. 

All  whom  she  loved  were  with  her,  and  all  were  so  good  to 
her,  took  such  care  of  her,  and  tried  so  to  make  every  thing 
pleasant  for  her,  that,  if  she  had  not  known  and  felt  that  the 
end  must  soon  come,  this  would  have  been  the  happiest  and 
best  part  of  her  life.  Only  one  thing  clouded  her  perfect 
happiness,  and  this  was  that  her  husband  was  not  the  same 
as  he  had  been  when  she  loved  him  in  the  country. 

In  the  country  she  had  loved  his  calm,  gentle,  and  hos- 
pitable waj-s.  In  the  city  she  found  him  unreasonably 
suspicious,  uneasy,  restless.  Then,  in  the  country  he  was 
usefully  occupied,  and  seemed  to  know  that  he  was  in  his 
place.  Here  in  the  city  he  was  constantly  on  the  go,  as  if  he 
were  afraid  of  forgetting  something ;  but  he  had  nothing 
really  to  do.  And  she  felt  a  pity  for  him.  But  she  knew 
that  to  his  friends  he  was  not  an  object  of  commiseration : 
and  when  in  society  she  looked  at  him  as  one  studies  those 
who  are  beloved,  endeavoring  to  look  upon  him  as  a  stranger, 
and  see  what  effect  he  produced  on  others ;  she  saw  with 
anxiety  that  it  was  rather  his  jealousy  which  stood  in  danger 
of  being  observed,  and  that  he  was  not  only  not  to  be  pitied, 


638  ANNA  KAE$NINA. 

but  was  to  be  envied  for  his  dignified,  rather  old-fashioned 
shy  politeness  to  ladies,  his  strong  physique,  and  his  very 
expressive  face.  But  she  read  his  inner  nature.  She  saw 
that  he  was  not  himself.  But  sometimes  her  soul  was  stirred 
because  he  could  not  adapt  himself  to  city  life.  Sometimes 
she  even  confessed  that  it  was  really  difficult  for  him  to  con- 
duct his  life  so  as  to  please  her. 

But  after  all,  what  could  he  find  to  do  here?  He  was  not 
fond  of  cards.  He  did  not  go  to  the  clubs.  She  now  knew 
what  it  meant  to  frequent  the  company  of  high  livers,  like 
Oblonsky.  It  meant  to  drink  and  to  —  but  she  could  not 
think  without  horror  of  the  lives  of  these  men.  Should  he 
go  into  society?  She  knew  that  to  enjoy  that  it  would  be 
necessary  to  court  the  company  of  young  ladies.  Then, 
should  he  sit  at  home  with  her,  with  her  mother,  and  her 
sister?  But  however  pleasant  these  conversations  might  be 
to  her,  she  knew  that  they  must  be  wearisome  to  him.  What. 
then,  remained  for  him  to  do?  Was  he  to  go  on  with  his 
book?  He  intended  to  do  this,  and  began  to  make  researches 
in  the  public  library  ;  but,  as  he  confessed  to  Kitty,  the  more 
he  had  nothing  to  do,  the  less  time  he  had,  and  that  his  in- 
terest in  his  work  was  flagging. 

One  result  of  their  life  in  Moscow  was,  that  there  were  no 
more  quarrels  between  them,  either  because  city  conditions 
were  different,  or  because  both  were  beginning  to  be  more 
guarded  and  prudent :  the  fact  remained,  that,  since  they  left 
the  country,  the  scenes  of  jealousy  which  they  feared  might 
again  arise,  were  not  repeated. 

In  these  circumstances  one  very  important  affair  for  them 
both  took  place  :  Kitty  had  a  meeting  with  Vronsky. 

Kitty's  godmother,  the  Princess  Marya  Borisovna,  was 
always  very  fond  of  her,  and  wanted  to  see  her.  Kitty,  though 
she  was  not  going  into  society  now,  went  with  her  father  to 
see  the  old  princess  ;  and  there  she  met  Vronsky.  At  sight 
of  the  features  once  so  familiar,  she  felt  her  heart  beat  fast, 
and  her  face  redden  ;  but  this  was  all,  for  her  emotion 
lasted  only  a  few  seconds.  The  old  prince  hastened  to  begin 
an  animated  discussion  with  Vronsky;  and  the  conversation 
was  not  over  before  Kitty  was  ready  to  look  at  Vronsky,  or 
to  talk  with  him  if  need  be,  just  as  she  was  talking  with  the 
princess,  and,  what  was  more,  without  a  smile  or  an  intona- 
tion which  would  have  been  disagreeable  to  her  husband, 
whose  invisible  presence  she  felt  near  her  at  the  moment. 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  639 

She  exchanged  some  words  with  Vronsky,  smiled  when  he 
called  the  assembly  at  Kashin  "  our  parliament,"  to  show 
that  she  understood  the  jest ;  then  she  addressed  herself  to 
the  old  princess,  and  did  not  turn  her  head  until  Vronsky 
rose  to  take  leave.  Then  she  looked  at  him,  but  evidently 
it  was  only  because  it  is  impolite  not  to  look  at  a  man  when 
he  bows. 

She  was  grateful  to  her  father  because  he  said  nothing 
about  this  meeting  with  Vronsk}- ;  but  Kitty  understood 
from  his  especial  tenderness  after  their  visit,  that  he  was 
satisfied  with  her.  She  felt  satisfied  with  herself.  She  was 
pleased  to  find  that  she  was  sufficiently  mistress  of  her  feel- 
ings to  see  Vronsky  again  with  perfect  indifference. 

It  was  hard  for  Kitty  to  tell  Levin  that  she  had  met  Vron- 
sky, but  still  harder  to  tell  all  the  details  of  the  meeting. 

"  It  was  such  a  pit}7  that  you  weren't  there,"  she  said  to 
her  husband,  —  "not  in  the  room,  for  before  you  I  should 
not  have  been  so  self-possessed.  I'm  blushing  now  ever  and 
ever  so  much  more  than  I  did  then  —  but  if  you  could  have 
looked  through  the  keyhole." 

At  first  Levin  listened  gloomily,  and  was  more  flushed 
than  she ;  but  her  sincere  eyes  told  him  that  she  was  satis- 
fied with  her  behavior,  and  he  asked  her  some  questions, 
just  as  she  wished  him  to  do.  When  he  had  heard  the  whole 
story,  even  to  the  detail  that  she  could  not  help  blushing 
for  the  first  second,  and  afterwards  was  perfectly  at  her 
ease,  Levin  grew  extraordinarily  gay,  and  declared  that  he 
was  very  glad  of  it,  and  that  in  future  he  should  not  behave 
so  foolishly  as  he  had  done  at  the  elections,  but  that  when 
he  met  Vronsky  again  he  should  be  as  friendly  as  possible. 

"It  is  so  painful  to  look  upon  him  as  an  enemy,  whom  it 
is  hard  to  meet." 

II. 

"PLEASE  don't  forget  to  call  at  the  Bohls',"  said  Kitty, 
as  her  husband  came  to  her  room,  about  eleven  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  before  going  out.  "  I  know  that  you  are  going 
to  the  club,  because  papa  wrote  you." 

"  I'm  going  to  Katavasof's." 

"  Why  are  you  going  so  early?  " 

"  He  promised  to  introduce  me  to  Metrof,  a  famous  scholar 
from  Petersburg.  1  want  to  talk  over  my  book  with  him." 


640  ANNA  KAEfiNINA. 

"  Da!  wasn't  it  his  article  you  were  praising?  Nu!  and 
after  that?" 

"Possibly  to  the  tribunal,  about  that  affair  of  my  sister's." 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  the  concert?  " 

"  Dal  why  should  I  go  all  alone?  " 

"  Do  go.  They're  going  to  give  those  new  pieces  :  it  will 
interest  you.  I  would  certainly  go." 

"  Nu!  at  all  events,  I  shall  come  home  before  dinner," 
said  he,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"Put  on  your  best  coat,  so  as  to  go  to  the  Countess 
Bohl's." 

"  Da!  is  this  really  necessary?" 

"  Ach!  certainly.  The  count  came  here  himself.  Nu! 
what  does  it  cost  you?  You  go,  you  sit  down,  you  talk 
five  minutes  about  the  weather,  then  you  get  up  and  go." 

"  Nu!  you  don't  realize  that  I  am  so  out  of  practice, 
that  I  feel  abashed.  How  is  it?  A  strange  man  comes, 
sits  down,  stays  a  little  while  without  any  business,  is  in  the 
way,  feels  awkward,  and  goes." 

Kitty  laughed. 

"Da!  didn't  you  use  to  make  calls  when  you  were 
young?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  was  always  bashful,"  said  he  ;  "  and  now  I  am 
so  out  of  the  way  of  it,  that  I  would  rather  not  have  any  din- 
ner for  two  days  than  make  this  call.  I  am  so  bashful.  It 
seems  to  me  as  if  they  would  take  offence,  and  say,  '  Why 
do  you  come  without  business  ?  ' ' 

"No,  they  don't  take  offence.  I  will  answer  for  you," 
said  Kitty,  looking  brightly  into  his  face.  She  took  his 
hand.  "  Nu,  proshcha'i!  —  please  go  !  " 

He  kissed  his  wife's  hand,  and  was  about  to  go,  when  she 
stopped  him. 

"  Kostia,  do  you  know  I  have  only  fifty  rubles  left?  " 

uNu!  I  will  go  and  get  some  from  the  bank,"  said  he, 
with  his  well-known  expression  of  vexation. 

"  Don't  think  I  run  into  unnecessary  expense :  still,  the 
money  runs  away.  We  must  retrench  somehow  or  other." 

••  Not  at  all,"  said  Levin,  with  a  little  cough,  and  looking 
askance  upon  her. 

She  knew  this  cough.  It  was  a  sign  of  strong  vexation, 
not  with  her,  but  with  himself.  He  was  actually  discon- 
tented, not  because  much  money  was  spent,  but  because  it 
reminded  him  of  what  he  wanted  to  forget. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  641 

"  I  have  ordered  Sokolof  to  sell  the  corn,  and  to  get  the 
rent  of  the  mill  in  advance.  We  shall  have  money  enough." 

"  No  ;  but  I  fear,  that,  as  a  general  thing  "  — 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  he  repeated.  "  Nu!  proshcha'i, 
dushenka"  [good-bj7,  little  soul]. 

"  Sometimes  I  wish  I  hadn't  listened  to  mamma.  How 
happy  we  were  in  the  country !  I  tire  you  all,  waiting  for 
me  ;  and  the  money  we  spend  "  — 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all!  Not  one  single  time  since  we 
were  married  till  now  have  I  thought  that  things  would  have 
been  better  than  they  are." 

u  Truly?  "  said  she,  looking  into  his  face. 

He  said  that,  thinking  only  to  comfort  her.  But  when  he 
saw  her  gentle,  honest  eyes  turned  to  him  with  an  inquiring 
look,  he  repeated  what  he  had  said  with  his  whole  heart ; 
and  he  remembered  what  was  coming  to  them  so  soon. 

"  How  do  you  feel  this  morning?  "  he  asked,  taking  both 
her  hands  in  his. 

"  I  sometimes  think  that  I  don't  think  and  don't  know 
any  thing." 

And  she  added  with  a  smile,  "  I  feel  perfectly  well." 

"  If  that  is  so,  then  I  am  going  to  Katavasof's." 

"  I  am  going  with  papa  to  take  a  little  walk  on  the  boule- 
vard. We  are  going  to  see  Dolly.  I  shall  expect  you  back 
before  dinner.  Ach,  da!  Do  you  know,  Dolly's  position  is 
getting  to  be  entirely  unendurable?  She  is  in  debt  on  every 
side,  and  hasn't  any  mone\'  at  all.  We  talked  about  it  yes- 
terday with  mamma  and  Ars£ny,  —  this  was  her  sister  Na- 
tali  Lvova's  husband,  —  and  they  decided  that  you  should 
scold  Stiva.  It  is  truly  unendurable.  It  is  impossible  for 
papa  to  speak  about  it ;  but  if  you  and  he  "  — 

"  Nu!  what  can  we  do?  "  asked  Levin. 

"  You  had  better  go  to  Arsen3*'s,  and  talk  with  him :  he 
will  tell  you  what  we  decided  about  it." 

"  Nu!  I  will  follow  Ars£ny's  advice.  Then,  I  will  go 
right  to  his  house.  By  the  way,  if  he  is  at  the  concert,  then 
I  will  go  with  Natali.  Nu ,  proshcha'i !  " 

On  the  staircase,  old  Kuzma,  who  acted  in  the  city  as 
steward,  stopped  his  master. 

"  Krasavtchika  [Beauty]  has  just  been  shod,  and  it  lamed 
her  :  "  — this  was  Levin's  left  pole-horse,  that  he  had  brought 
from  the  country  :  —  "  what  shall  I  do?  "  said  he. 

When  Levin  established  himself   in  Moscow,  he  brought 


642  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

his  horses  from  the  country.  He  wanted  to  set  up  a  suitable 
stable  which  should  not  cost  too  heaviby  ;  but  he  was  obliged 
to  confess  that  hired  horses  would  have  been  less  expensive, 
for  in  order  to  save  his  own  beasts,  he  constantly  took 
izvoshcfi  iks. 

"  Take  her  to  the  horse-doctor  :  perhaps  she  is  bruised." 

It  no  longer  troubled  Levin,  as  it  did  at  first,  to  have  a 
pair  of  strong  horses  pnt  into  his  heavy  carriage,  and  pay 
five  rubles  for  the  use  of  them  for  a  few  hours.  Now  it 
seemed  to  him  the  natural  thing  to  do. 

"  Get  a  pair  of  the  izvoshchik,  and  put  them  to  our  car- 
riage," he  said. 

"  I  will  obey  "  [sfas/m'w-s] . 

Levin  went  down-stairs  ;  and  as  soon  as  he  got  into  the 
carriage,  he  no  longer  thought  of  the  question  of  expense, 
but  went  over  in  his  mind  what  he  should  say  to  the  Peters- 
burg scholar  about  his  book. 

It  was  only  during  the  early  days  of  Levin's  stay  in  Mos- 
cow that  the  heav}T  bills  worried  him.  He  was  quite  used  to 
it.  When  he  took  the  first  hundred-ruble  note  for  the  pur- 
chase of  liveries  for  the  servants,  he  remembered  that  a 
hundred  rubles  represented  the  wages  of  two  workmen  for 
a  year,  or  of  three  hundred  day-laborers ;  and  he  asked 
himself  if  liveries  were  indispensable.  The  profound  aston- 
ishment of  the  princess  and  Kitty  at  this  question  silenced 
him.  At  the  second  bill  of  twenty-eight  rubles,  for  provis- 
ions bought  for  a  family  dinner,  he  hesitated  less,  though 
he  still  mentally  computed  the  number  of  measures  of  oats 
represented  by  the  money.  After  that,  bills  flew  about  him 
like  little  birds.  Levin  no  longer  asked  whether  the  pleasure 
bought  by  his  money  was  proportionate  to  his  pains  in  getting 
it :  he  forgot  his  principles,  in  the  duty  of  selling  his  corn  at 
the  highest  price  possible,  and  no  longer  even  thought  of 
telling  himself  that  the  course  he  was  pursuing  would  soon 
run  him  into  debt. 

Only  one  thing  seemed  to  him  necessary,  —  to  have  money 
enough  in  the  bank  to  serve  for  the  daily  needs  of  the  house- 
hold. But  now  his  deposit  at  the  bank  was  exhausted,  and 
he  did  not  know  at  all  when  he  could  replenish  it.  The  re- 
quest which  Kitty  had  just  made  troubled  him  ;  but  he  could 
arrange  that  by  and  by.  He  drove  away,  thinking  of  Kata- 
vasof ,  and  his  approaching  acquaintance  with  Metrof . 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  643 


III. 

LEVIN  found  his  old  university  friend,  Professor  Katavasof , 
very  congenial.  He  had  not  seen  him  since  the  day  of  his 
wedding.  He  admired  his  judgment,  and  thought  that  the 
clearness  of  Katavasof's  conceptions  brought  out  his  own 
want  of  fulness  :  Katavasof  thought  that  the  incoherence  of 
Levin's  ideas  came  from  want  of  mental  discipline.  Kata- 
vasof's clearness  pleased  Levin,  and  Levin's  richness  of 
undisciplined  thought  pleased  Katavasof,  and  they  both  liked 
to  meet  and  discuss. 

Levin  read  him  some  passages  of  his  book,  and  he  was 
struck  by  their  originality.  On  the  evening  before,  he  hap- 
pened to  meet  Levin,  and  told  him  that  the  celebrated 
scholar,  Professor  Metrof,  whose  work  had  pleased  Levin, 
was  in  Moscow,  and  was  greatly  interested  in  what  he  had 
told  him  of  his  friend's  work.  He  was  to  be  at  Katavasof  s 
house  the  next  day  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  would  be  delighted 
to  make  Levin's  acquaintance.  • 

Katavasof  received  Levin  in  his  sitting-room.  "Delighted 
to  see  you,  bdtiushka.  I  heard  the  bell,  and  wondered  if  it 
could  be  time.  Nu!"  And  Katavasof  in  a  few  wqrds 
described  his  famous  visitor,  and  then,  taking  him  into  his 
library,  presented  him  to  a  short,  solid,  very  pleasant-looking 
man.  This  was  Metrof.  The  conversation  for  a  short  time 
turned  on  politics,  and  on  the  views  hel'l  by  the  high  authori- 
ties in  Petersburg  in  regard  to  the  recent  elections.  Metrof, 
in  regard  to  this,  quoted  some  significant  words  spoken  by 
the  Emperor  and  one  of  the  ministers  which  he  had  heard 
from  a  reliable  source.  Katavasof  declared  that  the  Em- 
peror's words  were  diametrically  opposite  ;  and  as  his  author- 
ity was  equally  reliable,  Levin  was  free  to  take  his  choice 
between  the  two. 

"  Da!  here  is  the  gentleman  who  is  writing  a  book  on  the 
natural  condition  of  the  laborer  in  relation  to  the  soil,"  said 
Katavasof.  u  I  am  not  a  specialist,  but  it  pleases  me  as  a 
naturalist  that  he  does  not  consider  the  human  race  outside 
of  zoological  laws,  but  recognizes  man's  dependence  on  Ins 
environment,  and  seeks  to  find  in  this  dependence  the  laws 
of  his  development." 

"That's  very  interesting,"  said  Metrof. 

"I  began  simply  to  write  a  book  on  rural  economy"  [sel- 


644  ANNA  EARtNINA. 

skoe  JchnzydMvo~\,  said  Levin,  blushing;  "but  in  studying 
the  principal  instrument,  the  laborer,  1  arrived  at  a  decidedly 
unexpected  conclusion,  in  spite  of  myself." 

And  Levin  expatiated  on  his  ideas,  trying  the  ground 
carefully  as  he  did  so,  for  he  knew  that  Metro!'  had  written 
an  article  against  the  current  views  on  political  economy  ; 
and  how  far  he  could  hope  for  sympathy  in  his  new  views,  he 
did  not  know,  and  could  not  tell  from  the  scholar's  .calm, 
intellectual  face. 

44  How,  in  your  opinion,  does  the  Russian  laborer  differ 
from  that  of  other  peoples ?"  asked  Metrof.  "Is  it  from 
the  point  of  view  which  you  call  zoological?  or  from  that  of 
the  material  conditions  in  which  he  finds  himself?  " 

This  way  of  putting  the  question  proved  to  Levin  how 
widely  their  opinions  diverged :  nevertheless,  he  continued 
to  set  forth  his  theory,  which  was  based  upon  the  idea  that 
the  Russian  people  could  not  have  the  same  relation  to  the 
soil  as  the  other  European  nations  ;  and  to  prove  this  posi- 
tion, he  hastened  to  add,  that,  in  his  opinion,  the  Russian 
people  feel  instinctively  predestined  to  populate  the  immense 
uncultivated  tracts  stretching  towards  the  East. 

44  It  is  easy  to  form  premature  conclusions,  and  be  mis- 
taken about  the  general  destiny  of  a  people,"  said  Metrof, 
interrupting  Levin  ;  "  and  as  to  the  situation  of  the  laborer, 
it  will  always  depend  on  his  relation  to  land  and  capital." 

And  without  giving  Levin  time  to  reply,  he  explained  how 
his  own  views  differed  from  those  usually  received.  Levin 
neither  understood,  nor  did  he  try  to  understand,  in  what 
consisted  the  peculiarity  of  his  views.  lie  saw  that  Metrof, 
like  all  the  rest,  notwithstanding  his  article,  in  which  he 
refuted  the  teachings  of  the  economists,  looked  upon  the 
condition  of  the  Russian  people  from  stand-points  of  capital, 
wages,  and  rent,  though  he  was  obliged  to  confess  that 
for  the  eastern  and  by  far  the  greater  part  of  Russia,  there 
was  no  such  thing  as  rent ;  that  for  nine-tenths  of  Russia's 
eighty  millions,  wages  consisted  in  a  bare  subsistence,  and 
that  capital  did  not  yet  exist  except  as  it  was  represented  by 
tools  that  were  primitive.  Metrof  differed  from  the  other 
representatives  of  the  school  only  in  a  new  theory  as  to 
wages,  which  he  demonstrated  at  length. 

Levin  listened  with  some  disgust,  and  tried  to  reply.  He 
wanted  to  interrupt  Metrof,  in  order  to  express  his  own  opin- 
ions. But  finally  recognizing  how.  utterly  the1}-  differed,  he 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  645 

let  Mctrof  talk,  and  only  listened.  Though  he  was  not  at  all 
interested  in  what  he  said,  he  felt  extremely  pleased  as  he 
listened  to  him.  He  was  flattered  to  the  last  degree  that 
such  a  learned  man  would  condescend  to  give  him  the  benefit 
of  his  thoughts,  and  showed  him  so  much  deference.  He  did 
not  know  that  the  eminent  professor,  having  worn  out  his 
own  circle  on  this  subject,  was  not  sorry  to  have  a  new 
auditor ;  and,  moreover,  that  he  liked  to  talk  on  the  subjects 
which  occupied  him,  because  he  found  that  an  oral  demon- 
stration helped  to  elucidate  certain  points  for  his  own  benefit. 

"  We  shall  be  late,"  remarked  Katavasof  at  last,  consult- 
ing his  watch.  "  Da!  there  is  a  special  session  to-day  at 
the  'Society  of  Friends  '  [Obshchestvo  Liubitetye],  semi-cen- 
tennial celebration  of  Svintitch,"  he  added,  in  reply  to  Le- 
vin's question.  "  I  promised  to  speak  on  his  work  in  zoology. 
Come  with  us  :  it  will  be  interesting." 

"  Yes,  come,"  said  Metrof ;  "  and  then  afterwards,  if  you 
like,  come  home  with  me.  I  should  greatly  like  to  hear  your 
work." 

"It  is  only  a  sketch,  not  worth  much ;  but  I  should  like 
to  go  with  you  to  the  session." 

When  the}'  reached  the  universit}',  the  session  had  already 
begun.  Six  persons  were  sitting  around  a  table  covered 
with  a  cloth ;  and  one  of  them,  nearly  doubled  up  over  a 
manuscript,  was  reading.  Katavasof  and  Metrof  took  their 
places  at  the  table.  Levin  sat  down  in  an  unoccupied  chair 
near  a  student,  and  asked  him  in  a  low  voice  what  they 
were  reading.  The  student,  looking  angrily  at  Levin,  re- 
plied, "The  biography." 

Levin  listened  to  the  biograplry  mechanically,  and  learned 
various  interesting  particulars  of  the  life  of  the  celebrated 
savant.  When  the  reader  came  to  an  end,  the  chairman 
congratulated  him,  and  then  read  a  poem  which  had  been 
sent  him  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  Then  Katavasof  read  in 
a  loud,  brilliant  voice  a  sketch  of  the  work  of  Svintitch. 
When  Katavasof  had  finished,  Levin,  seeing  that  the  hour 
was  late,  excused  himself  to  Metrof  for  not  being  able  to  go 
home  with  him,  and  stole  away.  He  had  had  time,  during 
the  session,  to  reflect  on  the  uselessness  of  his  acquaintance 
with  the  Petersburg  economist.  If  they  were  both  to  work 
to  advantage,  it  could  only  be  by  pursuing  their  studies, 
each  in  his  own  line. 


646  ANNA    KARtiNINA. 


IV. 

LVOF,  Natali's  husband,  to  whose  house  Levin  went,  had 
just  established  himself  at  Moscow  to  superintend  there  the 
education  of  his  two  sons.  He  had  received  his  education 
abroad,  and  had  passed  his  life  in  the  principal  capitals  of 
Europe,  to  which  his  diplomatic  duties  called  him. 

In  spite  of  a  considerable  difference  in  age,  and  very  dif- 
ferent opinions,  these  two  men  had  seen  much  of  each  other 
this  fall,  and  had  become  great  friends. 

Levin  found  his  brother-in-law  at  home,  and  went  in  with- 
out ceremony.  Lvof,  in  a  house-coat  with  a  belt,  and  in 
chamois-skin  slippers,  was  reading  with  a  pince-nez  [eye- 
glasses] of  blue  glass  on,  as  he  sat  in  front  of  a  stand,  and 
held  a  half-burned  cigar  in  his  shapely  hand.  His  handsome, 
delicate,  and  still  youthful  face,  to  which  his  shining,  silvery 
hair  gave  an  expression  of  aristocratic  dignity,  lighted  up 
with  a  smile  as  he  saw  Levin. 

"  Good  !  I  was  just  going  to  send  to  find  out  about  you 
all.  How  is  Kitty?"  said  he;  and,  rising,  he  pushed  for- 
ward a  rocking-chair.  "Sit  down  here:  }-ou'll  find  this 
better.  Have  you  read  the  circular  of  the  Journal  de  St. 
Petersbourg?  I  find  it  excellent.  She  is  very  well?"  he 
inquired,  with  a  slight  French  accent. 

Levin  informed  him  of  what  he  had  heard  as  to  the  reports 
in  circulation  at  Petersburg ;  and  after  having  gone  over  the 
questions  that  were  up  in  politics,  he  told  of  his  conversa- 
tion with  Metrof  and  the  session  at  the  university. 

"  Vot !  I  envy  you  your  intimacy  in  that  society  of  pro- 
fessors and  savants,"  said  Lvof,  who  had  listened  to  him  with 
the  keenest  interest.  "  True,  I  could  not  meet  them  very 
well.  My  public  duties,  and  my  occupation  with  the  chil- 
dren, would  prevent  it ;  and  then,  I  do  not  feel  ashamed  to 
say  that  my  own  education  is  too  faulty." 

"I  can't  think  that,"  said  Levin  with  a  smile,  who  was 
touched  by  the  genuineness  of  this  humility. 

"  Acli,  kdkzhe!  I  now  feel  how  little  I  know.  Now  that 
I  am  educating  my  sous,  I  am  obliged  to  refresh  my  mem- 
ory. I  learn  my  lessons  over  again.  Just  as  in  your 
estate,  you  have  to  have  workmen  and  overseers,  so  here  it 
needs  some  one  to  watch  them.  But  I  am  learning,"  —  and 
he  pointed  to  Buslaef's  grammar  on  the  reading-stand,  — 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  G47 

"  and  it  is  so  hard.  Nu!  tell  me  one  thing.  Here  he  says 
—  but  you  are  laughing  at  me." 

"  On  the  contraiy,  you  can't  imagine  how  much  I  learn, 
when  I  look  at  you.  about  the  way  to  teach  children." 

"  Nu!     You  could  not  learn  much  from  me." 

"  I  only  know  that  I  never  saw  children  so  well  brought  up 
as  yours,  and  I  should  not  want  better  children  than  yours." 

Lvof  evidently  wanted  to  hide  his  satisfaction,  but  his 
face  lit  up  with  a  smile. 

"  Only  let  them  be  better  than  I.  That  is  all  that  I  want. 
But  you  don't  know  the  bother,"  he  began,  "  with  malchiks, 
who,  like  mine,  have  been  allowed  to  run  wild  abroad." 

"  You  are  regulating  all  that.  They  are  such  ready  chil- 
dren. The  main  thing  is  —  their  moral  training.  And  this 
is  what  I  learn  in  looking  at  you." 

"  You  speak  of  the  moral  training.  You  can't  imagine 
how  hard  it  is.  Just  as  soon  as  you  have  conquered  one 
crop  of  weeds,  others  spring  up,  and  there  is  always  a 
fight.  If  you  don't  have  a  support  in  religion — between 
ourselves  —  no  father  on  earth,  relying  on  his  own  strength 
and  without  this  help,  could  ever  succeed  in  training  them." 

This  conversation,  which  was  extremely  interesting  to 
Levin,  was  interrupted  by  the  pretty  Natali  Aleksandrovna, 
dressed  for  going  out. 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  here,"  said  she  to  Levin,  evi- 
dently not  regretting,  but  even  rejoicing,  that  she  had  inter- 
rupted this  conversation,  which  was  too  long  for  her  pleasure. 
l*'Nnt  how  is  Kitty?  I  am  going  to  dine  with  you  to-day. 
Vot  tcht6!  Ars^ny,"  she  said,  turning  to  her  husband,  "  you 
take  the  carriage."  .  .  . 

And  between  husband  and  wife  began  a  discussion  of  the 
question  how  the}'  should  spend  the  day.  As  the  husband 
had  to  attend  to  his  official  business,  and  the  wife  was  going 
to  the  concert  and  to  a  public  session  of  the  Committee  of 
the  South-East,  it  was  needful  to  reason,  and  think  it  all 
over.  Levin,  as  a  member  of  the  family,  was  obliged  to  take 
part  in  these  plans.  It  was  decided  that  he  should  go  with 
Natali  to  the  concert  and  to  the  public  meeting,  and  then 
send  the  carriage  to  the  office  for  Arse"ny,  and  that  then  they 
should  go  all  together  to  Kitty's. 

'•This  man  is  spoiling  me,"  said  Lvof  to  his  wife  :  "he 
assiuvs  me  that  our  children  are  lovely,  when  I  know  that 
they  are  full  of  faults." 


648  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

"Ars£ny  goes  to  extremes.  I  always  said  so,"  said  his 
wife.  "  If  you  expect  perfection,  you  will  never  be  satisfied. 
And  papa  is  right  in  saying  that  when  we  were  children,  they 
went  to  one  extreme  :  they  kept  us  in  the  entresol,  while  the 
parents  lived  in  the  beletage  [the  first  floor]  ;  but  now.  on  the 
contrary,  the  parents  live  in  the  lumber-room,  and  the  chil- 
dren in  the  beletage.  Parents  now  are  of  no  account :  every 
thing  must  be  for  the  children." 

"Supposing  this  is  more  agreeable?"  suggested  Levin 
with  his  winning  smile  as  he  offered  her  his  arm.  "  Any  one 
not  knowing  you  would  think  that  you  were  not  a  mother, 
but  a  mdtchika  "  [step-mother]. 

"  No,  it  is  not  good  to  go  to  extremes,"  said  Natali  gently, 
laying  his  knife  in  its  proper  place  on  the  table. 

"  Nu!  vot!  Come  here,  ye  perfect  children,"  said  Lvof  to 
the  handsome  lads  who  came  in,  and,  after  bowing  to  Levin, 
went  to  their  father,  evidently  wishing  to  ask  some  favor  of 
him. 

Levin  wanted  to  speak  with  them,  and  to  hear  what  they 
said  to  their  father,  but  Natali  was  talking  with  him  ;  and  just 
then  Lvof's  colleague,  Makhotin,  in  his  court-uniform,  came 
into  the  room,  and  began  a  lively  conversation  about  Herze- 
govina, the  premature  death  of  Madame  Apraksiua,  and  other 
things. 

Levin  forgot  all  about  Kitty's  message.  He  remembered 
it  just  as  they  were  starting. 

"  Ach!  Kitty  commissioned  me  to  speak  with  you  about 
Oblonsky,"  said  he,  as  Lvof  went  with  them  to  the  head  of 
the  staircase. 

"Yes,  yes!  merman  wants  us,  les  beatix-freres  [brothers- 
in-law],  to  attack  him.  But  how  can  I?  " 

"Then,  I'll  undertake  it,"  said  Levin,  smiling;  and  he 
ran  to  rejoin  his  sister-in-law,  who  was  waiting  for  him  at 
the  foot  of  the  staircase,  wrapped  in  her  white  furs. 


V. 

THAT  day  two  very  interesting  works  were  performed  at 
the  musical  matinee,  which  was  held  at  the  Assembly  Hall : 
one  was  a  fantasie,  "  King  Lear  on  the  Heath  ;  "  and  a  quar- 
tet dedicated  to  the  memory  of  Bach.  Both  works  were  new 
and  of  a  new  school,  and  Levin  wished  to  form  an  opinion 


ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

about  them.  Having  escorted  his  sister-in-law  to  her  seat, 
he  went  and  leaned  against  a  column,  in  order  to  be  away 
from  any  personal  influence,  and  to  listen  conscientiously 
and  attentively.  He  tried  not  to  have  his  attention  dis- 
tracted by  the  waving  hands  of  the  leader  of  the  orchestra, 
by  the  toilets  of  the  ladies,  or  by  the  sight  of  all  these  idle 
faces,  present  at  the  concert  for  any  thing  but  the  music. 
He  especially  avoided  the  amateurs  and  the  connoisseurs, 
who  are  so  ready  to  talk,  and  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
vacancy,  profoundly  absorbed. 

But  the  more  he  listened  to  the  "King  Lear"  fantasie,  the 
more  he  felt  the  impossibility  of  forming  a  clear  and  exact 
idea  of  it.  The  musical  thought,  at  the  moment  of  its  de- 
velopment, was  constantly  interrupted  by  the  introduction  of 
new  themes,  or  vanished,  leaving  onh*  the  impression  of  a 
laborious  attempt  at  instrumentation.  But  these  same  new 
themes,  beautiful  as  some  of  them  were,  gave  an  unpleasant 
impression,  because  they  were  not  expected  or  prepared  for. 
Gayety  and  sadness,  despair,  tenderness,  triumph,  followed 
one  another  like  the  incoherent  thoughts  of  a  madman,  to  be 
themselves  followed  by  others  as  wild. 

When  the  piece  suddenly  ended,  Levin  was  surprised  at 
the  fatigue  which  his  mental  intensity  had  caused  him.  He 
felt  like  a  deaf  man  who  sees  dancing  ;  and  as  he  listened 
to  the  applause  of  the  audience,  he  wished  to  compare  his 
impressions  with  those  of  persons  of  musical  ability. 

People  were  rising  on  eveiy  side  to  meet  and  talk  with 
one  another  in  the  interval  between  the  two  pieces  ;  and  he 
joined  Pestsof,  who  was  talking  to  one  of  the  chief  musical 
connoisseurs. 

'•  It's  wonderful,"  said  Pestsof,  in  his  deep  bass.  "  How 
are  you,  Konstantin  Dmitritch?  The  passage  that  is  the 
richest  in  color,  the  most  statuesque,  if  I  may  say  so,  is  that 
where  Cordelia  appears,  where  woman,  das  eicig  Weibliche, 
comes  into  conflict  with  fate.  Don't  you  think  so?  " 

"Why  Cordelia?"  asked  Levin,  with  hesitation,  for  he 
had  wholly  forgotten  that  King  Lear  had  any  thing  to  do 
with  it. 

'•  Cordelia  appears  here,"  said  Pestsof,  pointing  to  the 
satin  programme.  Levin  had  not  noticed  the  text  of  Shak- 
speare,  translated  into  Russian,  printed  on  the  back  of  the 
programme.  "  You  can't  follow  it  without  that." 

Levin  and    Pestsof   spent  the    interval   in   discussing  the 


650  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

merits  and  defects  of  the  Wagnerian  tendency  :  Levin  main- 
tained that  Wagner  and  his  followers  were  wrong  in  trench- 
ing upon  the  domain  of  the  other  arts ;  Pestsof  argued  that 
art  is  one,  and  that  it  can  reach  its  loftiest  manifestations 
only  by  combining  all  its  forms. 

Levin  could  not  listen  to  the  second  piece.  Pestsof,  who 
was  standing  near  him,  kept  talking  to  him  most  of  the  time, 
criticising  it  for  its  excessive,  mawkish,  affected  simplicity, 
and  comparing  it  to  the  simplicity  of  the  Pre-Raphaelites  in 
painting.  On  his  way  out,  he  met  numerous  acquaintances, 
with  whom  he  exchanged  remarks  on  politics  and  music : 
among  others  he  saw  Count  Bohl,  and  the  call  which  he 
should  have  made  upon  him  came  to  mind. 

"  Nu!  go  quickly,"  said  Xatali,  to  whom  he  confided  his 
remorse.  "Perhaps  the  countess  is  not  receiving.  If  so, 
you  will  come  and  join  me  at  the  meeting.  You  will  have 
plenty  of  time." 

VI. 

"PERHAPS  they  are  not  receiving?"  asked  Levin,  as  he 
entered  the  vestibule  of  Count  Bohl's  house. 

k'Oh,  yes!  Will  you  walk  in?"  answered  the  Swiss, 
resolutely  taking  the  visitor's  shuba. 

"  What  a  nuisance!  "  thought  Levin,  drawing  off  one  of 
his  gloves  with  a  sigh,  and  turning  his  hat  in  his  hands. 
"  Nu!  why  did  I  come?  Nu!  what  am  I  going  to  say  to 
them?" 

Passing  through  the  first  parlor,  he  met  the  Countess  Bohl 
at  the  door,  who,  with  a  perplexed  and  severe  face,  was.  giv- 
ing orders  to  a  servant.  When  she  saw  Levin,  she  smiled, 
and  invited  him  to  walk  into  a  boudoir,  where  voices  were 
heard.  In  this  room  were  sitting  her  two  daughters  and  a 
Muscovite  colonel  whom  Levin  knew.  Levin  bowed  and 
spoke  to  them,  sat  down  near  a  sofa,  and  put  nis  hat  between 
his  knees. 

"  How  is  your  wife?  Have  you  been  to  the  concert?  We 
were  not  able  to  go.  Mamma  had  to  attend  the  requiem," 
said  one  of  the  young  ladies. 

"  Da!  I  heard  about  it  —  what  a  sudden  death  !  "  — said 
Levin. 

The  countess  came  in,  sat  down  on  the  sofa,  and  asked 
also  about  his  wife  and  the  concert. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  651 

Levin  replied,  and  asked  some  questions  about  the  sudden 
death  of  Madame  Apraksina. 

'  Besides,  she  was  always  in  delicate  health." 

•  \Vere  you  at  the  opera  yesterday?  " 

'  Yes,  I  was." 

'  Lucca  was  very  good." 

'Yes,  very  good,"  he  said;  and  he  began,  as  though  it 
were  entirely  immaterial  what  they  thought  about  him,  to 
repeat  what  he  had  heard  a  hundred  times  about  the  sing- 
er's extraordinary  talent.  When  he  bad  got  through,  the 
colonel,  who  had  hitherto  held  his  peace,  began  also  to  speak 
about  the  opera  and  about  an  illumination.  Then,  laughing, 
he  got  up,  and  took  his  departure.  Levin  also  got  up,  but 
a  look  of  surprise  on  the  countess's  face  told  him  that  it 
was  not  yet  time  for  him  to  go.  Two  minutes  more  at  least 
were  necessary.  He  sat  down. 

But  as  he  thought  what  a  foolish  figure  he  was  cutting,  he 
was  more  and  more  incapable  of  finding  a  subject  of  conver- 
sation. 

"  Are  you  going  to  the  meeting  of  the  committee?  "  asked 
the  countess.  "  They  say  it  will  be  very  interesting." 

"  1  have  promised  to  go  there  to  fetch  my  beUe-soeur," 
replied  Levin. 

Silence  again :  the  mother  exchanged  a  look  with  her 
daughter. 

"Nit!  it  must  be  time  to  go,"  thought  Levin  ;  and  he  rose. 
The  ladies  shook  hands  with  him,  and  charged  him  with 
mille  chases  ["'  a  thousand  messages  "J  for  his  wife. 

The  Swiss,  as  he  put  on  his  shuba  for  him,  asked  his  ad- 
dress, and  wrote  it  gravely  in  a  large,  handsomely  bound 
book. 

"  Of  course,  it's  all  the  same  to  me  ;  but  how  useless  and 
ridiculous  it  all  is  !  "  thought  Levin,*  as  he  went  to  the  place 
where  the  public  meeting  was  held. 

He  found  many  people  there,  and  a  number  of  acquaint- 
ances ;  among  them,  Sviazhsky,  who  had  just  come  to  town, 
and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  After  talking  about  various  mat- 
ters, he  joined  his  sister-in-law,  and  took  her  home. 

Finding  Kitty  well  and  happy,  he  went  off  to  the  club, 
where  he  was  to  meet  his  father-in-law. 


652  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 


VII. 

LEVIN  had  not  set  foot  in  the  club  since  the  time  when, 
having  finished  his  studies  at  the  university,  he  passed  a 
winter  at  Moscow,  and  went  into  society.  He  remembered 
the  club  in  a  general  sort  of  way,  but  had  entirely  forgotten 
the  impressions  which,  in  former  days,  it  had  made  upon 
him.  But  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  great  semicircular 
court,  sent  away  his  izvoshchik,  and  mounted  the  staircase, 
and  saw  the  liveried  Swiss  noiselessly  open  the  door  for  him  ; 
as  soon  as  he  saw  the  goloshes  and  shubas  of  the  members, 
who  felt  that  it  was  less  work  to  take  them  off  down-stairs, 
and  leave  them  with  the  Swiss,  than  to  lug  them  up-stairs  ;  as 
soon  as  the  well-known  sights  and  sounds  of  the  club  met 
him,  —  he  felt,  as  formerly,  a  kind  of  satisfaction,  joined 
with  the  consciousness  of  being  in  good  company. 

"It's  a  long  time  since  we  have  had  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing you  here,"  said  the  second  Swiss,  who  received  him  at 
the  top  of  the  staircase.  "The  prince  wrote  to  you  yester- 
day. Prince  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  has  not  come  yet." 

The  Swiss  knew  not  only  Levin,  but  all  his  connections  and 
family,  and  took  pleasure  in  reminding  him  of  his  relation- 
ships. 

As  Levin  came  into  the  dining-hall,  he  found  the  tables 
almost  wholly  occupied.  Among  the  guests  he  recognized 
friendly  faces,  the  old  prince,  and  young  Shcherbatsky, 
Sviazhsky,  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  Nevyedovsky,  Vronsky  ;  and 
all,  old  and  young,  seemed  to  have  left  their  cares,  with 
their  furs,  in  the  hat-room,  and  to  think  of  nothing  but  of 
enjoying  the  pleasures  of  life. 

"  You  come  late,"  sajd  the  old  prince,  extending  his  hand 
to  his  son-in-law  over  his  shoulder,  and  smiling.  "  How  is 
Kitty?  "  added  he,  putting  a  corner  of  his  napkin  into  the 
button-hole  of  his  vest. 

"  She  is  well,  and  is  dining  with  her  two  sisters." 

"Ah!  the  old  story.  Nu!  there's  no  room  for  us  here. 
Da!  hurry  up,  and  take  that  table  there.  They're  all  full 
here,"  said  the  prince,  taking  with  care  a  plate  of  ukhd 
[fish-soup]. 

"  Here,  Levin,"  cried  a  jovial  voice  from  the  other  cud  of 
the  room.  It  was  Turovtsuin.  He  was  sitting  with  a  young 
officer,  and  near  him  were  two  chairs  tipped  up.  Levin,  with 


ANNA   KAR&N1NA.  653 

joy,  went  to  join  him.  He  always  liked  the  good-hearted, 
prodigal  Turovtsuiu  ;  and  now,  especially,  the  sight  of  him 
was  delightful. 

"  These  places  were  for  you  and  Oblonsky.  He  will  be 
here  directly,"  said  Turovtsuin  ;  and  then  he  introduced  him 
to  the  young  officer  with  bright,  laughing  eyes,  —  Gagin, 
from  Petersburg. 

"  Oblonsky  is  always  late." 

"Ah  !  here  he  is." 

"You  have  only  just  come,  haven't  you?  "  asked  Oblon- 
sky of  Levin,  hurrying  up  to  him.  "  Your  health.  Will  you 
take  vodka?  Nu!  come  on." 

Levin  got  up,  and  went  with  him  to  a  long  table,  upon  which 
a  most  select  zakuska  was  set  out.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch, 
however,  not  finding  any  of  the  twoscore  kinds  of  drink  to 
his  mind,  thought  good  to  ask  for  a  special  concoction,  which 
a  servant  in  lively  hastened  to  get  for  him. 

Immediately  after  the  uklid,  champagne  was  served.  Levin 
was  hungry,  and  ate  and  drank  with  great  satisfaction ;  and 
with  still  greater  satisfaction  he  took  part  in  the  gay  and 
lively  conversation  of  his  neighbors.  Gagin,  who  had  already 
taken  four  glasses  of  champagne,  told  a  new  Petersburg  anec- 
dote ;  and,  though  it  was  rather  broad,  it  was  so  funny  that 
Levin  laughed  uproariously.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  ordered 
more  champagne,  and  then,  taking  his  glass,  drank  to  the 
health  of  a  bald,  ruddy,  mustachioed  gentleman  at  the  other 
end  of  the  table. 

"  Who  is  that?  "  asked  Levin. 

"You  met  him  at  my  house  once,  don't  you  remember? 
Good  fellow." 

Levin  followed  Oblonsky's  example,  and  took  his  glass. 
Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  anecdote  was  also  very  diverting. 
Then  Levin  told  his  story,  which  likewise  raised  a  laugh. 
Then  the  conversation  turned  on  horses  and  races  ;  and  they 
told  how  Vronsky's  trotter,  Atlas,  had  just  won  a  prize. 

"And  here  he  is!"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  towards 
the  end  of  the  dinner,  turning  round  in  his  chair  to  extend 
his  hand  to  Vronsky,  who  was  walking  with  a  tall  colonel  of 
the  Guards.  Vrousky  leaned  towards  Oblonsky,  whispered 
some  words  in  his  ear  with  an  air  of  good-humor,  and  ex- 
tended his  hand  with  a  friendly  smile  to  Levin. 

"Very  glad  to  meet  you,"  said  he.  "  I  looked  for  you 
everywhere  after  the  election.  But  they  told  me  you  had 
gone." 


654  ANNA 

"Da!  I  ran  away  the  same  day.  We  have  just  bee» 
speaking  of  your  trotter.  It  was  a  very  fast  race." 

"  Da!  haven't  you  race-horses  too?  " 

"I?  No.  My  father  had  horses,  and  I  know  about 
them . ' ' 

"  Where  did  you  dine?  "  asked  Oblonsky. 

"  At  the  second  table,  behind  the  columns." 

"  He  has  been  loaded  down  with  congratulations.  It's 
very  pretty,  —  a  second  Imperial  prize.  I  wish  I  could 
only  have  the  same  luck  at  play  as  he  does  with  horses. 
Nu  I  how  they  waste  golden  time !  I  am  going  to  the  In- 
fernalnaia,"  said  the  tall  colonel. 

"  That's  Yashvin,"  said  Vronsky  to  Turovtsuin,  as  he  sat 
down  in  a  vacant  place  near  them.  Under  the  influence  of 
the  wine  and  the  social  atmosphere  of  the  club,  Levin  talked 
cordially  with  him  about  the  better  breeds  of  cattle,  and  was 
happy  to  feel  no  more  hatred  against  his  former  rival.  He 
even  made  an  allusion  to  the  meeting  which  had  taken  place 
at  the  house  of  the  Princess  Marya  Borisovna. 

"Ach!  the  Princess  Marya  Borisovna?  What  a  woman  !" 
exclaimed  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  ;  and  he  told  an  anecdote  of 
the  old  lady,  which  made  everybody  laugh,  and  especially 
Vronsky. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  if  we  have  done,  let's  go,"  said  Ob- 
lonsky. 

VIII. 

As  Levin,  in  company  with  Gagin,  quitted  the  dining-hall, 
he  felt  that  his  walk  was  singularly  straight,  and  that  his 
hands  moved  easily.  In  the  large  room  he  met  his  father- 
in-law. 

"Nu!  What  do  you  think  of  our  Temple  of  Indolence?" 
asked  the  old  prince,  taking  his  son-in-law  by  the  arm. 
"  Come,  take  a  turn." 

"  I  ask  nothing  better.     This  is  interesting." 

"Yes,  to  you;  but  my  interest  in  it  is  different  from 
yours.  When  you  see  old  men  like  that,"  said  he,  designat- 
ing a  man  with  stooping  shoulders,  and  falling  lip,  whose 
feeble  feet,  in  soft  boots,  were  bearing  him  across  the  hall, 
"you  would  think  that  they  were  born  sJdhqjiks." 

"How  ahliupiksf" 

"Here  you  are,  and  don't  know  what  that  means  !     That 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  655 

is  our  club  term.  You  kuow  how  eggs  roll.  Well,  when 
any  one  goes  with  a  gait  like  that,  he  becomes  a  shliupik. 
And  so  our  brother  yonder  goes  slithering  through  the  club, 
he  becomes  a  sMiiipik.  Do,  vot !  you  laugh  ;  but  our  brother — 
Do  you  know  Prince  Tchetchensky?  "  he  asked;  and  Levin 
saw  by  his  face  that  he  was  going  to  tell  some  ridiculous 
yarn. 

"  No,  I  don't  know  him." 

"Nu,kakzhe,  nu!  Prince  Tchetchensky  is  famous.  Nu! 
That's  all  right.  He's  always  playing  billiards.  Three  years 
ago  he  wasn't  among  the '.sMiupiks,  but  was  a  great  gallant. 
He  himself  called  other  people  sMiupiks.  Only  he  came  one 
time —  But  our  Swiss — you  know  Vasili,  our  tall  one?  — 
he  made  a  ban  mot.  Prince  Tchetchensky  asks  him,  '  Nu, 
Vasili!  anybody  here  yet?  any  shliupiks come ?'  And  Vasili 
answers,  k  You  are  the  third.'  Z)a,  brother  !  how  is  that?  " 

The  two  men  walked  on,  chatting,  and  greeting  their  friends, 
and  passed  through  all  the  rooms,  —  the  main  room,  where 
there  were  men  playing  cards  ;  the  divan-room,  where  others 
were  having  games  of  chess,  and  Sergei  Ivauovitch  was  talk- 
ing with  some  one ;  the  billiard-room,  where  a  gay  group  of 
players,  among  them  Gagin,  had  gathered  around  several 
bottles  of  champagne.  They  cast  a  glance  at  the  Infernal- 
wa'i'a,  where,  at  the  gambling-table,  Yashvin,  surrounded  by 
men  betting,  was  already  established.  With  hushed  voices, 
they  entered  the  reading-room.  A  young  man  with  a  stern 
face  was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  papers  under  the 
lamp,  while  near  by  was  a  bald-headed  general  absorbed  in 
reading.  They  passed  quietly  into  a  room  which  the  prince 
called  the  Hall  of  the  Wits,  and  there  they  found  three  gen- 
tlemen talking  politics. 

"  Prince,  we're  all  ready,  if  you  please,"  said  one  of  his 
partners,  who  had  been  looking  for  him  in  all  quarters.  And 
the  prince  went. 

Levin  sat  down,  and  listened  to  the  three  gentlemen  for  a 
while :  then  recalling  all  the  conversations  of  the  same  kind 
he  had  heard  since  morning,  he  felt  excessively  bored.  He 
got  up,  and  went  off  to  find  Turovtsuin  and  Oblonsky,  who 
were  sure  to  be  gay. 

Turovtsuin  was  with  the  champagne-drinkers  on  the  high 
divan  in  the  billiard-room,  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  and 
Vronsky  were  talking  in  a  corner  near  the  door. 

"  Not  that  she  finds  it  tedious,"  Levin  heard  in  passing; 


656  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

"but  it's  the  uncertainty,  the  indefiniteness  of  the  situa- 
tion." 

He  was  about  to  pass  on  discreetly,  but  Stepan  Arkady  e- 
vitch  called  him. 

"  Levin,"  said  he:  and  Levin  saw  that  there  were  tears 
in  his  eves,  as  was  alwa}^  the  case,  either  after  he  had  been 
drinking,  or  when  he  was  touched  ;  and  just  now  it  was 
both.  "  Levin,  don't  go;  "  and  he  took  him  by  the  arm, 
and  detained  him.  "  He  is  my  sincere,  possibly  my  best, 
friend,"  said  he,  addressing  Vronsky.  "You,  too,  are  more 
like  a  kinsman  and  a  friend  to  me.  I  want  to  bring  you  to- 
gether, and  see  you  friends.  You  ought  to  be  friends,  be- 
cause you  are  both  good  men." 

"  There's  nothing  left  for  us  but  to  give  the  kiss  of  friend- 
ship," said  Vronsky  gayly,  offering  his  hand  to  Levin,  who 
pressed  it  cordially. 

"  I  am  very,  very  glad,"  said  Levin. 

"  Waiter,  a  bottle  of  champagne  !  "  cried  Oblonsky. 

"  I  am  also  very  glad,"  said  Vronsky.  But,  in  spite  of 
their  mutual  satisfaction,  the}-  did  not  know  what  to  say. 

"  Do  you  know,  he  doesn't  know  Anna?  "  remarked  Ob- 
lonsky ;  "and  I  want  to  introduce  him  to  her.  Come  on, 
Levin." 

"  Is  it  possible?  "  said  Vronsky.  "  She  will  be  very  much 
pleased.  I  should  beg  you  to  come  at  once,  but  I  am  dis- 
turbed about  Yashvin,  and  I  want  to  stay  here  till  he  is 
through." 

"  Is  he  going  to  lose?  " 

"  All  he  has.  I  am  the  only  one  who  has  any  influence  over 
him,"  said  Vronsky  ;  and,  after  a  moment,  he  quitted  them. 

Levin  and  Oblonsky  played  a  game  of  billiards,  and  then 
went  to  the  Ivfornalna'in*  where  they  found  Vronsky  still 
watching  Yashvin.  As  he  was  not  yet  ready,  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch  took  Levin's  arm,  saying,  — 

"  Nu!  let  us  go  to  see  Anna  right  away.  Ha?  She  is  at 
home.  I  promised  her  to  bring  you  a  long  time  ago.  What 
are  you  going  to  do  this  evening?  " 

"  Da!  nothing  particular.     Come  on,  if  you  wish." 

"Agreed.  Have  my  carriage  brought,"  said  Oblonsky, 
addressing  a  lackey. 

Levin  went  to  the  desk,  paid  the  forty  rubles  which  he 
had  lost  at  cards,  gave  his  fee  to  the  old  lackey  who  was 
standing  by  the  door,  and  went  down  to  the  entrance. 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  657 


IX. 

"  PRINCE  ORLONSKY'S  carriage  !  "  cried  the  Swiss  in  a  voice 
of  thunder.  The  carriage  came  up,  and  the  two  friends  got 
in.  Only  as  long  as  the  carriage  was  still  in  the  court-yard 
did  Levin  continue  to  experience  the  feeling  of  clubbish  com- 
fort, of  satisfaction,  and  of  indubitable  decorum,  which  had 
surrounded  him.  But  as  soon  as  the  carriage  rolled  out  on 
the  street,  the  jolting  over  the  uneven  pavement,  the  cries  of 
the  angry  izvoshchiks  whom  they  met,  and  the  sight  of  the 
red  sign  of  a  low  public  house,  brought  him  back  to  reality. 
He  asked  himself  if  he  were  doing  right  in  going  to  see 
Anna.  What  would  Kitty  say?  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  as 
if  he  had  divined  what  was  passing  in  the  mind  of  his  com- 
panion, cut  short  his  meditations. 

"  How  glad  lam  to  introduce  you  to  her!  You  know 
Dolly  has  been  wishing  it  for  a  long  time.  Lvof  goes  to  her 
house  too.  Though  she  is  my  sister,  I  am  bold  enough  to 
say  that  she  is  a  remarkable  woman.  You  will  see  it.  Her 
position  is  very  sad,  especially  just  now." 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  especiall}'  now  '  ?  " 

"  We  are  negotiating  for  a  divorce,  and  her  husband  is 
willing  ;  but  there  are  difficulties  on  account  of  the  son  ;  and 
this  matter,  which  ought  to  have  been  settled  long  ago,  is 
dragging  on  now  these  three  months.  As  soon  as  the  divorce 
is  granted,  she  will  marry  Vronsky,  and  her  position  will 
become  as  regular  as  yours  or  mine." 

"  Where  does  the  difficulty  lie?  " 

"  Achl  it  is  a  long  and  tiresome  story,  every  thing  is  so 
undecided.  But  this  is  the  point:  she  has  been  waiting 
three  months  for  that  divorce  here  in  Moscow,  where  every- 
body knows  her  and  him ;  and  she  doesn't  see  a  single 
woman  but  Dolly,  because  she  doesn't  wish  to  impose  herself 
on  any  one.  What  do  }'ou  think?  That  fool  of  a  Princess 
Yarvara  sent  word  to  her  that  she  left  her  for  propriety's 
sake.  Any  other  woman  than  Anna  would  have  gone  to 
ruin  ;  but  you  shall  see  how  she  lives,  how  dignified  and 
calm  she  is." 

"  To  the  left,  opposite  the  church,"  cried  Oblonsky  to  the 
coachman,  leaning  out  of  the  window.  "  Fa,  how  hot  it 
is!  "  he  added,  throwing  open  his  shuba  in  spite  of  twelve 
decrees  of  cold. 


ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

"  Da!  she  has  a  daughter,  hasn't  she,  to  take  up  her  time 
and  attention?  " 

"  You  seem  to  imagine  every  woman  to  be  a  mere  cou- 
veuse"  [setting-hen],  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "Why, 
yes,  of  course,  she  gives  her  time  and  attention  to  her  daugh- 
ter; but  she  doesn't  make  any  fuss  about  it.  Her  interests 
are  intellectual.  She  writes.  I  see  you  smile  ironically,  but 
you  are  wrong.  She  has  written  a  book  for  young  people. 
She  hasn't  spoken  of  it  to  any  one,  except  to  me :  and  I 
showed  the  manuscript  to  Vorkuyef ,  the  publisher,  you  know  ; 
he  writes  himself,  it  seems.  He  is  up  in  such  matters,  and 
he  says  that  it  is  a  remarkable  thing.  Don't  think,  for  a 
moment,  that  she  sets  up  for  a  blue-stocking.  Anna  is, 
above  all  things,  a  woman  with  a  heart,  as  you  will  see.  She 
has  in  her  house  a  little  English  girl  and  a  whole  family, 
and  is  looking  after  them." 

"  For  philanthropy's  sake?  " 

"  Here  you  are  trying  to  make  fun  out  of  it.  It  is  not  for 
philanthropy's  sake,  but  because  she  loves  to  do  it.  They 
had  —  that  is,  Vrousky  had  —  an  English  trainer,  a  master  in 
his  calling,  but  a  drunkard.  He  did  nothing  but  drink — de- 
lirium tremens — and  abandoned  his  family.  Anna  saw  them, 
helped  them,  got  drawn  in  more  and  more,  and  now  has  the 
whole  family  on  her  hands.  I  don't  mean  merely  by  giving 
them  money.  She  herself  teaches  the  boys  Russian,  so  as  to 
fit  them  for  the  gymnasium  ;  and  she  has  taken  the  little  girl 
home  with  her.  Da,  vot!  you  shall  see  her." 

At  this  moment,  the  carriage  entered  a  court-yard.  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  rang  at  the  door  before  which  they  had  stopped, 
and,  without  inquiring  whether  the  mistress  of  the  house  was 
at  home,  went  into  the  vestibule.  Levin  followed  him,  more 
and  more  uneasy  as  to  the  propriety  of  the  step  he  was  taking. 
He  saw,  as  he  looked  at  himself  in  the  glass,  that  he  was  very 
red  in  the  face  ;  but  he  knew  that  he  was  not  tipsy.  He  went 
up-stairs  after  Oblonsky.  On  the  second  floor  a  servant 
received  them  with  a  bow ;  and  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  asked 
him,  as  though  he  were  a  connection,  "  Who  is  with  Anna 
Arkadyevua?"  and  received  the  answer,  "  Mr.  Vorkuyef." 

"  Where  are  they?  " 

"In  the  library." 

They  passed  through  a  small,  wainscoted  dining-room,  and 
came  to  the  library,  dimly  lighted  by  a  single  lamp  with  a  huge 
shade.  A  reflector-lamp  on  the  wall  threw  its  rays  on  a  full- 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  659 

length  portrait  of  a  woman,  which  instantly  attracted  Levin's 
attention.  It  was  the  portrait  of  Anna,  painted  by  Mikluu- 
lof  in  Italy.  While  Stepan  Arkad}Tevitch  went  on,  and  the 
man's  voice  which  had  been  heard,  ceased  speaking,  Levin 
stood  looking  at  the  portrait  which  shone  down  from  its 
frame,  and  he  could  not  tear  himself  away.  He  forgot 
where  he  was ;  and,  not  hearing  what  was  said,  he  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  wonderful  portrait.  It  was  not  a  painting, 
but  a  living,  beautiful  woman,  with  her  dark,  curling  hair, 
bare  shoulders  and  hands,  and  a  pensive  half-smile  on  her 
lovely  lips,  and  gazing  at  him  triumphantly  and  yet  tenderly 
from  her  entrancing  eyes.  Only  because  it  was  not  alive  did 
it  seem  more  beautiful  than  life  itself. 

"  I  am  veiy  glad"  \_ya  otclien  rada],  said  a  voice  suddenly 
behind  him,  evidently  addressed  to  him, — the  voice  of  the 
same  woman  whom  he  admired  in  the  picture. 

It  was  Anna,  who  had  been  concealed  by  a  lattice-work  of 
climbing-plants,  and  who  rose  to  receive  her  visitor.  And 
in  the  dusk  of  the  chamber,  Levin  recognized  the  original  of 
the  portrait,  in  a  simple  dark-blue  dress.  Not  in  the  same 
position,  or  with  the  same  expression,  but  with  the  same 
lofty  beauty  which  had  been  so  artistically  expressed  in  the 
painting.  She  was  less  brilliant  in  the  reality,  but  the  living 
woman  had  a  new  attraction  which  the  portrait  lacked. 


X. 

SHE  advanced  towards  him,  and  did  not  conceal  the  pleas- 
ure which  his  visit  caused  her.  With  the  ease  and  simpli- 
city of  a  woman  of  the  best  society,  she  extended  to  him  a 
small,  energetic  hand,  introduced  him  to  Vorkuyef,  and 
mentioned  by  name  the  girl  who  was  seated  with  her  work 
near  the  table. 

"  I  am  veiy,  very  glad ;  "  and  in  these  simple  words 
spoken  by  her,  Levin  found  an  extraordinary  significance. 
"  I  have  known  you  and  liked  you  for  ever  so  long,  thanks 
to  Stiva  and  your  wife.  I  knew  her  a  very  short  time,  but 
she  gave  me  the  impression  of  a  flower,  a  lovely  flower.  And 
to  think  !  she  will  soon  be  a  mother  !  " 

She  talked  without  haste,  looking  from  Levin  to  her 
brother,  and  putting  her  visitor  at  his  ease,  as  if  they  had 
known  one  another  from  childhood. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

Oblonsky  asked  if  smoking  was  allowed. 

"  That  is  why  we  have  taken  refuge  in  AlekseTs  study," 
said  she  ;  and  looking  at  Levin,  as  though  to  ask,  "  Does  he 
smoke?"  she  held  over  a  tortoise-shell  cigar-case  to  him, 
after  taking  a  cigarette  from  it. 

"  How  are  you  to-day?  "  said  Stiva. 

"  Pretty  well ;  a  little  nervous,  as  usual." 

"Isn't  it  extraordinarily  good?"  said  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch,  noticing  Levin's  admiration  of  the  portrait. 

"  I  never  saw  any  thing  so  perfect." 

"  An  extraordinary  likeness,  isn't  it?"  added  Vorkuyef. 

Levin  looked  from  the  portrait  to  the  original.  Anna's 
face  lighted  up  with  a  glow  that  was  wholly  its  own.  Levin 
looked  at  her  attentively.  He  blushed,  and,  to  conceal  his 
uneasiness,  asked  Madame  Kareniua  when  she  had  seen 
Dolly. 

"  Dolly?  She  was  here  yesterday,  highly  indignant  at 
Grisha's  Latin  teacher  at  the  gymnasium.  It  seems  he  was 
unfair  to  him.  Ivan  Petrovitch  and  I  were  talking  just  now 
of  Vashchenkof's  pictures.  Do  you  know  them?  " 

"•  Yes:  I  have  seen  them,"  answered  Levin,  "  and  I  like 
them  very  much;"  and  the  conversation  turned  upon  the 
new  schools  of  painting,  and  the  illustrations  to  the  Bible 
which  a  French  painter  had  just  made.  Anna  talked  in- 
telligently, without  pretence,  ready  to  be  in  the  background 
in  order  to  make  the  others  shine  ;  and  Levin,  instead  of  tor- 
menting himself,  as  he  had  done  that  morning,  found  it 
easy  and  agreeable  either  to  talk  or  to  listen.  Speaking 
of  the  exaggerated  realism  which  Vorkuyef  objected  to  in 
French  painting,  Levin  remarked  that  realism  was  a  re-ac- 
tion, for  conventionality  in  art  had  never  been  pushed  so 
far  as  in  France. 

"  Not  to  lie  has  come  to  be  in  itself  poetic,"  said  he  ;  and 
he  felt  pleased  to  see  an  approving  smile  from  Anna. 

"  What  you  say  about  French  art  is  equally  characteristic 
of  literature,"  replied  she,  "  Zola  and  Daudet.  That  is, 
perhaps,  always  the  way.  You  begin  by  studying  types  that 
are  imaginary,  —  some  conventional  ideal ;  but  when  you 
have  worked  out  your  combinaisons,  the  types  seem  dull  and 
cold,  and  you  fall  back  on  nature." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Vorkuyef. 

"  Have  you  been  at  the  club?  "  said  Anna  to  her  brother, 
leaning  towards  him,  so  as  to  speak  in  a  low  tone. 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  661 

"Da,  da!  there  is  a  woman,"  thought  Levin,  absorbed 
in  contemplating  that  sensitive  face,  which,  as  she  talked 
with  Stiva,  expressed  in  turn  curiosity,  anger,  and  pride. 
But  Anna's  emotion  was  fleeting.  She  half  closed  her  eyes, 
as  if  to  collect  her  thoughts,  and,  turning  towards  the  Eng- 
lish girl,  said  in  English,  — 

"  Please  order  the  lea  in  the  drawing-room." 

The  child  rose,  and  went  out. 

"Nit!  has  she  passed  the  examination?"  asked  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch. 

"  Perfectly.  She  is  a  very  capable  girl,  and  a  lovely  char- 
acter." 

"  You  will  end  by  loving  her  better  than  your  own  daugh- 
ter." 

"That's  just  like  a  man.  In  love,  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  more  or  less.  I  love  my  child  in  one  way,  and  this  girl  in 
another." 

"  I  tell  Anna  Arkady evna,"  said  Vorkuyef,  "  that  if  she 
would  spend  a  hundredth  part  of  the  activity  she  devotes  to 
this  little  English  girl  for  the  benefit  of  Russian  children, 
what  a  service  her  energy  would  render.  She  would  accom- 
plish prodigies." 

"  Da,  vot !  What  you  want,  I  can't  do  !  The  Count  Alek- 
s£i  Kirilluitch  "  —  she  glanced  with  an  air  of  timid  inquiry 
at  Levin  as  she  pronounced  this  name,  and  he  responded  by 
a  look  that  was  encouraging,  and  full  of  admiration  —  tk  used 
to  encourage  me,  when  we  were  in  the  country,  to  visit  the 
schools.  I  went  a  few  times.  They  were  very  pleasant,  but 
I  couldn't  get  interested  in  this  occupation.  You  talk  of 
energy  ;  but  the  foundation  of  energy  is  love,  and  love  does 
not  come  at  will.  But  why  1  love  this  little  English  girl,  I 
really  don't  know." 

She  looked  at  Levin  again  ;  and  her  smile  and  her  look 
all  told  him  that  she  spoke  only  with  the  aim  of  gaining  his 
approval,  though  sure  in  advance  that  they  understood  one 
another. 

"I  agree  with  you  thoroughly,"  cried  he.  "You  can't 
put  your  heart  into  schools  and  such  things,  and  I  think  that 
from  the  same  reason  philanthropic  institutions  generally 
give  such  small  results." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  then  she  smiled.  "Yes,  yes," 
she  replied,  "  I  never  could.  To  love  a  whole  asylum  of 
wretched  little  boys,Je  n'aipas  le  coeur  assez  large  [I  haven't  a 


662  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

heart  large  enough]  ;  cda  ne  m'a  jamctis  reussi  [I  never  was 
successful  in  that].  It  is  only  women  who  do  it  to  win  for 
themselves  position  sociale.  Even  now,  when  I  have  so  much 
need  of  occupation,"  added  she  with  a  sad,  confiding  ex- 
pression, addressing  Levin,  though  she  was  speaking  to  her 
brother.  Then  suddenly  frowning,  —  and  Levin  saw  that 
she  frowned  because  she  had  begun  to  speak  of  herself,  — 
she  changed  the  subject. 

"  You  have  the  reputation  of  being  only  an  indifferent 
citizen,"  said  she,  smiling,  to  Levin;  "but  I  have  always 
defended  you." 

"  How  have  you  defended  me?  " 

"That  has  depended  on  the  attacks.  But  suppose  we 
have  some  tea,"  said  she,  rising,  and  taking  a  morocco- 
bound  book  that  was  lying  on  the  table. 

"Give  it  to  me,  Anna  Arkadyevna,"  said  Vorkuyef,  point- 
ing to  the  book. 

"  No  :  it's  too  trivial  a  thing." 

"I  have  told  him  about  it,"  whispered  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch,  indicating  Levin. 

"  You  were  wrong.  My  writings  are  like  those  little  bas- 
kets and  carvings  made  by  prisoners,  which  Liza  Myertsalova 
used  to  sell."  She  turned  to  Levin:  "Those  unfortunates 
used  to  make  perfect  miracles  of  patience." 

Levin  was  struck  by  a  new  feature  in  this  remarkable, 
fascinating  woman.  Besides  wit,  grace,  beauty,  she  had 
sincerity.  She  would  not  conceal  the  thorns  of  her  situa- 
tion. As  she  said  that,  she  sighed,  and  her  face  suddenly 
assumed  a  stern  expression,  as  though  it  were  changed  to 
stone.  With  this  expression  on  her  face.,  she  was  even  more 
beautiful  than  before.  Levin  cast  a  final  glance  at  the  mar- 
vellous portrait,  while  Anna  took  her  brother's  arm,  and  a 
feeling  of  tenderness  and  pity  came  over  him.  She  let  the 
two  gentlemen  pass  into  the  parlor,  while  she  remained 
behind  to  speak  to  Stiva. 

"What  is  she  talking  with  him  about?  —  the  divorce? 
Vronsky  ?  what  he  was  doing  at  the  club  ?  about  me  ?  "  thought 
Levin  ;  and  he  was  so  stirred  that  he  heard  nothing  that  Vor- 
kuyef was  saying  to  him  about  the  merits  of  the  story  for 
children  which  Anna  Arkadyevna  had  written. 

During  tea,  a  pleasant  conversation  full  of  ideas  was 
carried  on.  There  seemed  to  be  no  lack  of  subjects  at  any 
moment ;  but  it  was  felt  that  there  was  time  to  say  all  that 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  663 

any  one  wanted  to  say,  and  each  was  willing  to  let  the 
other  talk ;  and  all  that  was  said  bad  a  special  interest 
for  Levin. 

He  listened  to  Anna,  admired  her  intelligence,  the  cultiva- 
tion of  her  mind,  her  tact,  and  her  naturalness  ;  and  while  he 
was  listening  and  talking,  he  was  thinking  about  her  and  her 
inmost  life,  and  trying  to  read  her  thoughts. 

He  who  formerly  had  judged  her  so  severely,  now  thought 
only  how  to  excuse  her  ;  and  the  idea  that  she  was  not  happy, 
and  that  Vronsky  did  not  understand  her,  weighed  heavily 
on  him.  It  was  more  than  eleven  o'clock  when  Stepan  Ar- 
kadyevitch  rose  to  go.  Vorkuyef  had  already  left  some  time 
before.  Levin  rose,  too,  but  with  regret.  He  felt  as  if  he 
had  only  just  come. 

"  Proshchat "  [Farewell],  said  Anna  to  him,  holding  his 
hand  in  hers,  and  looking  into  his  eyes  with  a  fascinating 
look. 

"  I  am  glad  que  la  glace  est  rompue  "  [the  ice  is  broken]. 

She  let  go  his  hand,  and  her  eyes  twinkled.  "  Tell  your 
wife  that  I  love  her  as  I  have  always  done :  and  if  she  can- 
not forgive  me  my  situation,  tell  her  how  I  hope  she  may 
never  pardon  me  ;  for  to  pardon,  it  is  necessary  to  understand 
what  I  have  suffered  :  and  God  preserve  her  from  that !  " 

"Z)a/  I  will  surely  tell  her,"  answered  Levin,  and  the 
color  came  into  his  face. 


a  wonderful,  lovely,  and  pitiable  woman!" 
thought  Levin,  as  he  went  out  with  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
into  the  cold  night  air. 

tlNu!  what  did  I  tell  you?"  demanded  Oblonsky,  as  he 
saw  that  Levin  was  overcome.  "  Wasn't  I  right?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Levin  thoughtfully,  "  an  extraordinary 
woman  !  Not  only  intellectual,  but  she  has  a  wonderfully 
warm  heart.  What  a  terrible  pity  it  is  about  her !  " 

"  Now,  thank  God,  all  will  soon  be  arranged,  I  hope. 
Nu!  after  this,  don't  form  hasty  judgments,"  said  Ste- 
pan Arkadyevitch,  opening  his  carriage-door.  "  Proshchai 
[Farewell]  :  we  go  different  ways." 

Levin  went  home,  never  ceasing  to  think  about  Anna, 
recalling  the  smallest  incidents  of  the  evening,  bringing  back 
all  the  charm  of  her  face,  and  understanding  her  situation 


664  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

better  and  better,  and,  at  the  same  time,  feeling  the  deepest 
commiseration  for  her. 

Kuzma,  as  he  opened  the  door,  told  Levin  that  Katerina 
Aleksandrovna  was  well,  and  that  her  sisters  had  but  just 
left  her.  He  handed  him  at  the  same  time  two  letters,  which 
Levin  ran  through  at  once.  One  was  from  his  prikashchik, 
Sokolof.  Sokolof  wrote  that  he  had  not  found  a  purchaser 
who  would  give  more  than  five  and  a  half  rubles  for  the 
wheat.  The  other  letter  was  from  his  sister,  who  reproached 
him  because  her  affairs  were  not  yet  regulated. 

"  Nu!  we'll  sell  for  five  rubles  and  a  half  if  they  won't 
give  more,"  thought  he,  settling  with  extraordinary  prompt- 
ness the  first  question  which  had  been  troubling  him.  "  As 
to  my  sister,  she  is  right,  of  course.  But  time  goes  so  quickly, 
that  I  didn't  get  the  chance  to  go  to  court  to-day,  though  I 
meant  to." 

Resolving  to  go  to-morrow,  he  went  to  his  wife's  chamber. 
On  his  wa}T,  he  cast  a  quick  glance  back  at  his  day.  There 
had  been  nothing  except  conversations,  —  conversations  in 
which  he  had  listened,  and  in  which  he  had  taken  part.  No 
one  of  the  subjects  touched  on  would  have  occupied  him 
when  in  the  country,  but  here  they  were  very  interesting. 
And  all  the  conversations  in  which  he  had  engaged  were 
good  :  only  in  two  places  they  were  not  absolutely  good,  — 
one  was  his  jest  at  the  club,  the  other  was  something  intan- 
gibly wrong  in  his  feeling  of  pity  for  Anna. 

Levin  found  his  wife  sad  and  absent-minded.  The  dinner 
of  the  three  sisters  had  been  merry  ;  but  afterwards  they  had 
waited  and  waited  for  him,  and  the  evening  had  seemed  long 
to  them  :  and  now  Kitty  was  alone. 

li  Nu!  what  hast  thou  been  doing?"  she  asked  him,  no- 
ticing, as  she  did  so,  an  unusual  light  in  his  e3~es,  but  taking 
good  care  to  conceal  her  suspicions,  so  as  not  to  prevent  him 
from  speaking.  She  smiled,  and  asked  him  to  tell  her  how 
he  had  spent  the  evening. 

"  Nu!  I  met  Vronsky  at  the  club,  and  I  am  very  glad  of 
it.  Every  thing  went  off  smoothly,  and  hereafter  there  will 
be  no  more  trouble  between  us;  though  I  don't  intend  to 
seek  his  society."  As  he  said  these  words,  he  blushed; 
for,  in  order  not  to  "  seek  his  society,"  he  had  gone  to 
Anna's  house  when  he  left  the  club.  "  Here  we  say  the 
peasantry  drink  ;  but  I  don't  know  which  drink  more,  the 


ANNA  KARfiNlNA.  665 

peasantry,  or  men  in  society.     The  peasantry  drink  on  fes- 
tival days,  but  "  — 

Kitty  was  not  interested  in  the  question  how  much  the 
peasantry  drink.  She  saw  her  husband's  face  change,  and 
she  wanted  to  know  the  reason. 

"  Nn!  where  else  hast  thou  been  ?  " 

"  Stiva  bothered  me  to  go  with  him  to  Anna  Arkad- 
yevna's,"  answered  he,  blushing  more  and  more,  with  now 
no  longer  a  doubt  as  to  the  impropriety  of  his  visit. 

Kitty's  eyes  opened  wide  and  flashed  lightning  at  the  men- 
tion of  Anna  ;  but  she  restrained  herself,  and,  concealing  her 
anger,  merely  said,  "  Ah  !  " 

"  You  are  not  going  to  be  vexed  because  I  went?  Stiva 
begged  me  so  persistently ;  and  Dolly  wanted  me  to,  as 
well." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  she  ;  but  in  her  eyes  he  saw  a  look  which 
boded  little  good. 

"  She  is  a  very  charming  woman,  who  is  to  be  pitied," 
continued  Levin  ;  and  he  described  the  life  which  Anna  led, 
and  gave  her  message  of  remembrance  to  Kitty. 

"Da!  of  course  she  is  to  be  pitied,"  said  Kitty  when 
he  had  finished.  "  Whom  did  you  get  a  letter  from  ?  " 

He  told  her,  and,  misled  by  her  apparent  calmness,  went 
to  undress.  When  he  came  back,  Kitty  had  not  stirred. 
She  sat  in  the  same  place,  looked  at  him  as  he  approached, 
and  burst  into  tears. 

'•  What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  with  some  anno}Tance ; 
for  he  understood  the  cause  of  her  tears. 

"•  You  are  in  love  with  that  horrid  woman.  She  has  be- 
witched you.  I  saw  it  in  your  eyes.  Yes,  yes !  What 
will  be  the  end  of  it?  You  were  at  the  club;  3-011  drank 
too  much  ;  you  gambled  ;  and  then  3-011  went — where  !  No  ! 
this  shall  not  go  on.  We  must  leave.  I  am  going  home 
to-morrow !  " 

It  was  long  before  Levin  could  pacify  his  wife ;  and  he 
succeeded  only  by  promising  her  to  avoid  Anna,  whose 
pernicious  influence,  together  with  an  excess  of  champagne, 
he  had  to  confess,  had  clouded  his  brain.  What  he  acknowl- 
edged with  more  sincerity  was  the  ill  effect  produced  on  him 
by  this  idle  life  in  Moscow,  passed  in  eating,  drinking,  and 
gossiping.  The37  talked  till  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Onl3T  when  it  was  three  o'clock  were  they  sufficiently  recon- 
ciled to  go  to  sleep. 


666  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 


XII. 

AFTER  having  said  good-by  to  her  visitors,  without  sitting 
down,  Anna  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the  full  length  of 
her  apartments.  She  did  not  conceal  from  herself  that  for 
some  time  her  relations  with  young  men  had  been  character- 
ized by  decided  coquetry  ;  and  she  acknowledged,  that,  in  the 
case  of  Levin,  she  had  involuntarily  done  her  best  to  arouse 
a  feeling  of  love  in  him.  But  though  it  was  evident  that  he 
was  greatly  taken  with  her,  and  though  as  a  woman  she  dis- 
covered a  subtle  likeness,  in  spite  of  certain  outward  differ- 
ences, between  him  and  Vronsky,  which  doubtless  caused 
Kitty  to  feel  the  fascinations  of  both,  3'et,  as  she  walked  up 
and  down  her  room,  she  soon  ceased  to  think  of  him.  One 
thought,  and  one  only,  possessed  her  :  — 

"  Why,  since  I  have  so  evidently  an  attraction  for  others, 
—  for  this  married  man,  who  is  in  love  with  his  wife,  —  why 
is  lie  so  cold  to  me? —  Yet  not  exactly  cold  :  he  loves  me, 
I  know  ;  but  lately  something  has  come  between  us.  Why 
has  he  spent  the  whole  evening  away?  He  told  Stiva  that 
he  could  not  leave  Yashvin,  but  had  to  watch  him  while  he 
played.  Is  Yashvin  a  baby?  It  must  be  true:  he  never 
tells  lies.  But  there's  something  else  back  of  it.  He  is 
always  glad  to  invent  some  excuse  for  attending  to  other 
duties.  I  know  this.  I  don't  object  to  it.  but  what  need 
has  he  to  assert  it  so?  He  wants  to  show  that  his  love  for 
me  must  not  interfere  with  his  independence  !  But  the  proof 
is  not  necessary.  I  must  have  his  love.  He  must  under- 
derstand  the  wretchedness  of  the  life  I  lead.  Why  am  I  liv- 
ing? I  am  not  living,  —  only  dragging  out  life,  in  hope  of 
a  turn  in  affairs,  which  never,  never  comes.  And  Stiva  says 
that  he  can't  go  to  Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch,  and  I  can't 
write  again.  Still  no  answer.  I  cannot  do  any  thing.  I 
can't  begin  any  thing,  or  make  any  changes,  but  only  control 
myself,  wait,  and  invent  amusements  —  this  English  family, 
my  reading,  my  writing  ;  but  it  is  all  only  to  deceive  myself, 
like  this  morphine.  He  ought  to  be  sony  for  me,"  she  said  ; 
and  tears  of  pity  at  her  own  lot  filled  her  eyes. 

A  well-known  bell  rang ;  and  instantly  Anna  wiped  her 
eyes,  put  on  an  air  of  great  calmness,  and  sat  down  near  the 
lamp  with  a  book.  She  felt  that  she  must  show  her  dissatis- 
faction because  he  did  not  return,  but  not  to  let  her  grief  be 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  667 

seen.  Vronsky  must  not  be  allowed  to  pity  her.  She  did 
not  want  a  contest.  She  blamed  him  because  he  wanted  to 
quarrel,  but  she  herself  involuntarily  took  the  attitude  of  an 
opponent.  Vronsky  came  in  with  a  bright,  contented  air, 
approached  her,  and  gayly  asked  her,  — 

"ATw/  you  weren't  lonesome,  were  you?  It's  a  terrible 
passion,  gambling." 

"  Ah,  no  !  I  have  given  up  being  lonely.  Stiva  and  Levin 
have  been  here  to  see  me." 

"  Da!  I  knew  that  they  intended  to  come.  Nul  how  do 
you  like  Levin?  "  he  asked,  as  he  sat  down  near  her. 

"Very  much.  They  have  only  just  gone.  How  about 
Yashviu  ?  " 

"  He  had  won  seventeen  thousand  rubles.  I  led  him 
away,  but  he  escaped  from  me,  and  went  back  again  ;  and 
now  he's  losing." 

"  Then,  why  did  you  abandon  him?"  said  Anna,  suddenly 
raising  her  eyes  to  his.  The  expression  of  Vrousky's  face 
was  cold  and  unpleasant.  "  You  told  Stiva  that  you  were 
going  to  stay,  to  keep  him  from  playing.  Now  you  abandon 
him  !  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  I  did  not  commission  Stiva  to  say  that ; 
and,  in  the  second  place,  I  am  not  accustomed  to  tell  lies ; 
and  chiefly,  I  staid  because  I  wanted  to,"  he  answered  an- 
grily. "Anna,  why  do  you  do  so?"  added  he,  after  a 
moment's  silence,  holding  out  his  hand  to  her,  in  the  hope 
that  she  would  place  hers  in  it. 

She  was  glad  of  this  appeal  to  her  love,  but  some  strange 
spirit  of  evil  kept  her  back. 

"  Of  course  you  staid  because  you  wanted  to  :  you  always 
do  as  you  please.  But  why  tell  me  so?  What  is  the  good?  " 
answered  she,  growing  more  and  more  heated. 

Vronsky  drew  back  his  hand,  and  his  face  became  more 
set  than  before. 

"  For  you  this  is  a  matter  of  obstinacy,"  she  cried,  see- 
ing the  expression  of  his  face.  "  For  you  the  question  is 
to  see  whether  you  will  win  the  victory  over  me.  But  the 
question  for  me  " — and  again  the  sense  of  her  pitiable  lot 
came  over  her,  and  she  almost  sobbed.  "  If  you  knew  what 
it  meant  for  me  when  I  feel,  as  I  do  now,  that  you  hate  me,  — 
yes,  hate  me  !  If  you  knew  what  it  meant  for  me  !  If  you 
knew  how  near  I  am  to  ruin  every  moment !  how  I  fear  — 
how  I  fear  for  myself,"  —  and  she  turned  away  to  hide  her 
sobs. 


668  ANNA    K  ARE  MX  A. 

"  But  what's  all  this  for  ?  "  said  Vronsky,  alarmed  at  this 
despair,  and  leaning  towards  Anna  to  take  her  hand,  and 
kiss  it.  "  Do  I  seek  outside  diversion?  Don't  I  avoid  the 
society  of  women?  " 

'•  As  if  that  were  all !  "  said  she. 

"  Na!  Tell  me  what  I  must  do  to  make  you  happy.  I 
am  ready  for  any  thing  to  spare  you  one  pang,"  said  he, 
moved  to  see  her  so  unhappy. 

"  It's  nothing,  nothing,"  she  replied.  "  I  myself  don't 
know.  It's  the  loneliness:  it's  my  nerves.  Nu!  Don't 
let's  talk  about  it  an}-  more.  Tell  me  what  happened  at  the 
races.  You  haven't  told  me  any  thing  about  it,"  said  she, 
attempting  to  conceal  the  pride  she  felt  at  having  made  this 
imperious  man  bow  before  her. 

Vronsky  asked  for  some  supper,  and  as  he  was  eating  de- 
scribed to  her  the  incidents  of  the  races ;  but  from  the  sound 
of  his  voice,  and  from  his  glance  that  grew  colder  and  colder, 
Anna  understood  that  she  was  to  pay  for  the  victory  that 
she  had  just  gained,  and  that  he  would  not  pardon  the  words, 
"  I  am  near  a  terrible  ruin,  and  I  fear  for  myself."  It  was 
a  dangerous  weapon,  which  she  must  not  use  again.  She 
felt  that  there  was  looming  up  between  them  a  spirit  of  con- 
flict, which  she,  no  more  than  Vronsky,  had  power  to  control. 


XIII. 

SOME  months  before,  Levin  would  have  believed  it  im- 
possible for  him  to  go  to  sleep  quietly  after  a  day  like  that 
he  had  just  passed.  But  we  get  accustomed  to  every  thing, 
especially  when  we  see  others  doing  the  same.  So  he  slept 
in  peace,  with  no  anxiety  at  his  increased  expenses,  his 
squandered  time,  his  excesses  at  the  club,  his  absurd  inti- 
macy with  a  man  who  had  once  been  in  love  with  Kitty,  and, 
more  absurd  still,  his  call  upon  a  woman  who,  as  it  had  to 
be  confessed,  was  not  respectable,  and,  last  and  worse,  the 
mortification  which  he  caused  his  wife. 

At  five  o'clock  the  noise  of  a  door  opening  awakened  him 
suddenly.  Kitty  was  not  there,  and  behind  the  curtain 
which  divided  the  chamber  he  saw  a  light  and  he  heard  her 
steps. 

"  What's  the  matter?     Kitty,  what  is  it? 

"  Nothing,"  answered  she,  appearing  with  a  candle  in  her 


AXNA    KAR&N1NA.  G69 

hand,  and  smiling  at  him  significantly.  "  I  don't  feel  quite 
well." 

••What!  Is  this  the  beginning?  Must  we  send?"  ex- 
claimed he  in  alarm,  looking  for  his  clothes,  to  dress  as 
quickly  as  possible. 

"No,  no,  it's  nothing;  !•  did  not  feel  quite  well;  it's  all 
right  now,"  said  she  ;  and  she  smiled,  and  pressed  both  his 
hands. 

Going  back  to  bed,  she  put  out  the  light,  and  lay  down 
again.  Levin  was  so  tired,  that,  in  spite  of  the  alarm  which 
he  felt  at  seeing  his  wife  appear  with  a  light  in  her  hand,  he 
fell  asleep  again  at  once.  It  was  only  afterwards  that  he 
realized  the  calmness  of  her  spirit,  and  appreciated  all  that 
was  passing  in  her  dear,  gentle  heart  as  she  lay  thus  motion- 
less near  him,  awaiting  the  most  solemn  moment  of  a  wo- 
man's life. 

About  seven  o'clock,  Kitty,  hesitating  between  the  fear  of 
waking  him  and  the  wish  to  speak  to  him,  at  last  touched  his 
shoulder,  and  gently  shook  him. 

"  Kostia,  don't  be  afraid;  it's  nothing;  but  I  think  — 
Lizavyeta  Petrovna  had  better  be  called." 

The  candle  was  again  lighted.  She  was  sitting  on  the 
bed,  holding  the  knitting  that  she  had  begun  the  da}'  before. 

"  Dear,  don't  be  alarmed.  I'm  not  in  the  least  afraid," 
said  she,  seeing  her  husband's  terrified  face  ;  and  she  pressed 
his  hand  to  her  heart  and  lips. 

Levin  leaped  from  bed,  hurried  on  his  dressing-gown,  and 
without  taking  his  eyes  off  his  wife  for  a  moment.  It  was 
necessary  for  him  to  go.  but  he  could  not  tear  himself  away. 

Her  dear  face,  her  look,  her  charming  expression  he  loved 
so  well,  appeared  to  him  in  a  new  light.  As  he  stood  before 
her,  how  cruel  and  abominable  seemed  the  mortification  that 
he  had  caused  her  that  evening.  Never  had  that  sincere  and 
transparent  soul  been  so  unveiled  to  him,  as  he  looked  into 
her  face,  kindled  with  a  joyous  courage. 

Kitty  looked  at  him,  and  smiled.  But  suddenly  her  eyes 
closed,  she  lifted  her  head,  took  his  hand,  drew  her  hus- 
band to  her,  and  clung  to  him,  sighing  painfully.  She  suf- 
fered, and  he  felt  pity  for  her.  At  first,  as  he  saw  this  silent 
suffering,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  caused  it.  A  look, 
full  of  tenderness  from  Kitty,  told  him  that  she  loved  him 
all  the  more  for  her  suffering. 

"  If  not  I,  who,  then,  is  to  blame?  "  he  thought.    She  suf- 


670  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

fered,  and  she  seemed  to  take  pride  in  her  pain,  and  to  re- 
joice in  it.  He  saw  that  she  had  a  loftiness  of  soul  which 
he  could  not  understand.  It  was  above  his  powers. 

"  I  have  sent  for  mamma.  Now  go  quick,  and  get  Liza- 
vyeto  Petrovua —  Kostia  —  it's  nothing  —  it  is  all  over." 

She  let  go  of  his  hand.  • 

"  Nu,  vot !  please  go.  Pasha  is  coming:  I  want  nothing." 
And,  to  his  great  astonishment,  Levin  saw  her  take  up  her 
work  again.  As  he  went  out  of  one  door,  Pasha,  the  maid, 
came  in  at  the  other,  and  he  heard  her  give  directions  for 
arranging  the  room.  Having  dressed,  and  ordered  his  car- 
nage, since  it  was  too  early  for  izvoshchiks,  he  found  her 
walking  up  and  down,  and  talking  to  two  maids. 

"  I'm  going  for  the  doctor  right  away.  Lizavyeta  Pe- 
trovna  has  been  sent  for,  but  1  will  call  there.  There's 
nothing  more,  is  there?  Oh.  yes,  — Dolly  !  " 

She  looked  at  him  without  hearing,  and  motioned  him  with 
her  hand.  "  Yes,  yes,  go,"  said  she.  And  as  he  passed 
through  the  parlor,  he  heard  a  groan  which  made  his  heart 
stand  still. 

"  It  is  she,"  he  said  to  himself  ;  and  putting  his  hands  to 
his  head,  he  rushed  out. 

"  Lord  have  mercy  on  us  !  pardon  us  !  save  us !  "  he  ex- 
claimed ;  and  these  words  were  not  spoken  merely  by  his 
lips.  Now  he,  the  unbeliever,  knowing  no  longer  either 
scepticism  or  doubt,  called  upon  Him  who  held  in  II is  power 
his  soul  and  his  love. 

The  horse  was  not  ready.  In  order  not  to  lose  time,  mid 
to  find  occupation  for  his  strength  and  his  attention,  he 
started  off  on  foot,  ordering  Kuzma  to  follow  him.  At  the 
corner  of  the  street  he  noticed  a  night  izcoslichik  coming 
along  as  fast  as  its  lean  horse  could  trot.  In  the  little 
sledge  sat  Lizavyeta  Petrovna,  in  a  velvet  cloak,  with  her 
head  wrapped  up  in  a,  plat  ok.  "Thank  God!"  [Shiva 
Bohu~\,  he  murmured,  as  he  saw  with  joy  her  pale  and  seri- 
ous face.  He  ran  up  to  the  cab,  and  stopped  it. 

"  Only  two  hours?  not  more?  "  asked  Lizavyeta  Petrovna. 
"  You  may  speak  to  Piotr  Dmitritch,  but  don't  hurry  him. 
Da  !  please  get  some  opium  at  the  apothecary's." 

"Do  you  think  all  will  go  on  well?"  asked  he.  "God 
help  us!  "  he  added,  as  he  saw  his  horse  starting  from  the 
door :  he  got  into  the  sledge  alongside  of  Kuzma,  and  hurried 
off  to  the  doctor's. 


ANNA  KAIitiNlNA.  671 


XIV. 

THE  doctor  was  not  yet  up  ;  and  a  servant,  who  was  busy 
cleaning  the  lamps,  announced  that  his  master  had  gone  to 
bed  late,  and  had  given  orders  not  to  be  waked,  but  would 
be  up  before  long.  Levin  was  at  first  perplexed,  but  finally 
decided  to  go  to  the  apothecary's,  and  to  send  Kuzma  for 
another  doctor,  so  that,  if,  on  his  return,  Piotr  Dmitritch 
was  still  asleep,  there  might  be  no  failure  in  having  some 
doctor  there.  At  the  apothecary's  the  thin  clerk  refused  him 
the  opium  at  first,  with  the  same  indifference  as  the  doctor's 
servant  had  shown  in  refusing  to  wake  his  master.  Levin 
tried  not  to  get  angry,  and  named  the  physician  and  the 
midwife,  and  the  person  for  whom  it  was  wanted,  and  at 
last  he  persuaded  him.  The  clerk  asked  if  he  should  send 
it ;  and  then  taking  the  vial  and  a  tunnel,  he  poured  the 
laudanum  from  a  larger  vessel.  But  as  he  was  ticketing, 
wrapping,  and  tying  it  with  exasperating  care,  Levin  seized 
it  from  his  hands,  and  rushed  out  of  the  door. 

The  doctor  was  still  asleep  ;  and,  this  time,  the  servant 
was  shaking  the  rugs.  Levin,  still  resolved  to  keep  cool, 
pulled  from  his  pocket-book  a  ten-ruble  note,  and,  putting  it 
into  the  hand  of  the  inflexible  servant,  assured  him  that 
Piotr  Dmitritch  would  not  scold  him,  as  he  had  promised  to 
come  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night.  How  important  a 
personage  had  this  Piotr  Dmitritch,  ordinarily  so  insignifi- 
cant, become  in  the  eyes  of  Levin. 

The  servant,  who  was  overcome  by  these  arguments,  ush- 
ered Levin  into  the  reception-room.  He  listened  at  the 
door,  and  heard  the  doctor  coughing,  and  answering  that  he 
was  going  to  get  up.  Three  minutes  passed  ;  the  three  min- 
utes seemed  more  than  as  many  hours  :  Levin  was  beside 
himself,  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  chamber.  "Piotr 
Dmitritch,  in  the  name  of  Heaven  !  Piotr  Dmitritch,  —  ex- 
cuse me  !  —  it's  more  than  two  hours  now  !  " 

"  I'm  coming  !  I'm  coming!"  answered  the  doctor;  and 
by  the  sound  of  his  voice,  Levin  knew  that  he  was  smiling. 

Two  minutes  more  went  by,  while  the  doctor  was  put- 
ting on  his  boots,  and  another  two  minutes  while  he  was 
brushing  his  hair  and  putting  on  his  coat. 

'*  These  people  have  no  hearts,"  thought  Levin.  "  He 
can  brush  his  hair  while  we  are  dying." 


672  .  ANNA   KARtiNlNA. 

"  Piotr  Dmitritch,"  he  began  to  say  again  ;  but  at  this  in- 
stant the  doctor  appeared  all  in  readiness. 

"Good-morning  !  "  said  the  doctor,  entering  the  reception- 
room  serenely,  and  offering  to  shake  hands.  "  Don't  feel  anx- 
ious. Nu-s?"  [meaning,  "  How  is  it?  "]. 

Levin  began  at  once  a  long  and  circumstantial  account, 
filled  with  a  crowd  of  useless  details,  and  interrupted  himself 
at  every  moment  to  urge  the  doctor  to  set  out.  He  fancied 
the  latter  was  joking  when  he  proposed  that  they  should  first 
have  some  coffee. 

"  I  understand  you,"  added  the  physician,  smiling  ;  "  but 
you  may  be  sure  there's  no  hurry,  and  we  husbands  cut  a 
sorry  figure  in  such  cases.  The  husband  of  one  of  my  pa- 
tients always  goes  off  to  the  stable." 

"  But  do  you  think,  Piotr  Dmitritch, — do  you  think  she'll 
get  on  well  ?  ' ' 

"  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  so." 

"•  Won't  you  come  right  along?  "  said  Levin,  looking  with 
angry  eyes  at  the  servant  who  was  bringing  the  coffee. 

"  In  a  few  minutes." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  !  " 

"  Nu!  let  me  take  my  coffee,  and  I'll  come  at  once." 

The  doctor  proceeded  to  take  his  breakfast.  Both  were 
silent. 

"  It  seems  the  Turks  are  beating.  Did  3-011  read  the  tele- 
gram last  evening?  "  asked  the  doctor,  calmly  chewing  on  a 
bulka  [roll]. 

"  No  ;  but  I'm  going,"  said  Levin.  "  Will  you  come  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour?  " 

"  Make  it  a  half." 

"  On  your  honor?  " 

When  Levin  got  home,  he  found  the  princess  at  the  door. 
She  had  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  her  hands  "trembled.  When 
she  saw  Levin,  she  threw  her  arms  round  him,  and  kissed 
him  ;  and  they  went  to  Kitty's  room  together. 

Ever  since  Levin,  on  waking,  had  understood  the  situa- 
tion, he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  sustain  his  wife's  courage, 
to  keep  back  his  own  feelings,  and  have  entire  control  of 
himself.  When  he  went  in  after  his  visit  to  the  doctor's, 
and  found  Kitty  still  suffering,  again  he  cried  more  and 
more  frequently,  "  Lord,  forgive  us,  and  be  merciful!  "  and 
he  was  afraid  that  he  could  not  endure  it,  so  terrible  was  it 
to  him :  thus  an  hour  went  by. 


ANNA    KAlif:.\I.\A.  GT3 

And  after  this  another  hour  passed,  and  a  second,  and  a 
third,  and  more  than  five  went  by,  with  no  change ;  and 
his  terror  grew  with  Kitty's  suffering.  Little  by  little  the 
ordinary  conditions  of  life  disappeared  ;  time  ceased  to  exist ; 
the  minutes  seemed  to  him  hours,  or  the  hours  minutes. 
When  Lizavyeta  Pctrovna  asked  for  a  light,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  it  was  five  o'clock  in  the  evening.  If 
they  had  told  him  that  it  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
he  would  not  have  been  surprised.  Where  the  time  had 
gone,  what  he  had  done,  where  he  had  been,  he  could  not 
have  told.  Sometimes  he  was  with  Kitty,  and  saw  her, 
now  troubled  and  piteous,  then  calm  and  almost  smiling, 
trying  to  re-assure  him.  Then  he  was  with  the  princess, 
who  was  flushed  with  anxiety.  Her  gray  curls  were  in 
disorder,  and  she  was  biting  her  lips  to  keep  from  cry- 
ing. He  had  also  seen  Dolly,  the  doctor  smoking  great 
cigarettes,  and  Lizavyeta  Petrovua  with  a  serious  but  re- 
assuring look,  and  the  old  prince  pacing  the  dining-room 
with  a  sad  face.  But  how  they  came  and  went,  and  where 
they  had  been,  he  could  not  tell.  The  princess  had  been 
with  the  doctor  in  Kitty's  room,  then  in  the  library,  where 
a  well-set  table  had  appeared,  as  by  a  miracle  :  then  she 
disappeared,  and  Dolly  was  in  her  place.  Then  Levin 
knew  that  they  sent  him  on  an  errand  ;  he  moved  divans 
and  tables  cautiousl}',  thinking  it  was  for  her  sake  ;  and 
he  learned  with  indignation  that  they  were  preparing  his 
own  bed  for  the  night.  They  sent  him  to  the  library  to  ask 
the  doctor  something  :  the  doctor  replied,  and  then  began  to 
speak  of  the  unpardonable  disorders  of  the  durna  [council]. 
Then  they  sent  him  to  the  princess,  to  get  a  holy  image  made 
of  silver,  with  a  golden  chasuble,  from  her  bed-chamber ; 
and,  with  the  aid  of  an  old  chamber-maid  of  the  princess's, 
he  unhooked  it  from  the  cabinet,  and,  in  doing  so,  broke  a 
little  lamp,  and  heard  the  old  woman  console  him  for  this 
accident,  and  encourage  him  about  his  wife.  How  had  all 
I  his  happened?  He  could  not  understand  why  the  princess 
took  his  hand  in  a  compassionate  way,  and  why  Dolly, 
with  forced  reasoning,  tried  to  make  him  eat ;  why  the  doc- 
tor himself  offered  him  some  pills,  looking  at  him  gravely. 

He  felt  himself  to  be  in  the  same  moral  state  as  a  year 
ago,  at  the  death-bed  of  Nikolai.  That  was  grief,  this  was 
happiness.  But  that  grief  and  this  happiness  raised  him 
above  the  usual  level  of  existence,  to  heights  where  he 


674  ANNA   KAE&NINA. 

caught  sight  of  yet  higher  summits;  and  his  soul  cried  to 
God  with  the  same  simplicity,  the  same  confidence,  as  in  his 
childhood.  All  this  time,  he  seemed  to  be  leading  two  sepa- 
rate existences  :  one  was  at  the  foot  of  Kitty's  bed  ;  the 
other  with  the  doctor  smoking  his  big  cigarette,  and  with 
Dolly  and  the  princess  talking  of  indifferent  things. 

Whenever  a  groan  from  Kitty's  room  reached  his  ear,  he 
felt  the  same  sensation  of  guiltiness  which  seized  him  when 
first  she  woke  him  that  morning ;  and  as  he  would  hasten 
toward  her  room,  he  would  remember  that  he  was  not  to 
blame,  and  would  long  for  protection  and  help.  And  as  he 
looked  upon  her,  he  would  see  that  there  was  no  help  to 
be  given  her;  and  again  the  pity  would  seize  him,  and  he 
would  pray,  "Lord,  forgive  and  help  us!" 


XV. 

THE  candles  had  burned  down  to  their  sockets,  and  Levin 
was  listening  to  the  doctor's  discourse  on  the  charlatanism 
of  magnetizers,  when  an  unearthly  cry  stopped  him.  He 
sat  petrified,  not  daring  to  stir,  looking  at  the  doctor  with 
alarm.  The  doctor  bent  his  head,  as  if  to  hear  better,  and 
smiled  with  an  air  of  approbation.  Levin  had  reached  the 
point  where  nothing  could  surprise  him  ;  and  he  said,  in- 
wardly, "Evidently,  that  must  be  so;  but  why  that  cry?" 
He  went  back  to  the  sick-room  on  tiptoe.  Evidently,  there 
was  some  change.  What,  he  did  not  know,  and  did  not  care 
to  know.  But  he  saw  it  by  the  grave  expression  of  Lizavyeta 
Petrovna's  pale  face.  Her  eyes  were  closely  fixed  on  Kitty. 
The  poor  creature  turned  her  head  towards  him.  and  sought 
with  her  moist  hand  to  take  his  and  press  it  on  her  forehead. 

"  Don't  go,  don't  go  !  I  am  not  afraid,"  said  she  quickly. 
"  Mamma,  take  away  my  earrings  :  they  bother  me.  —  You 
aren't  afraid. —  Lizavyeta  Petrovna,  quick,  quick!"  — 
She  spoke  rapidly,  and  tried  to  smile ;  but  suddenly  her  face 
grew  convulsed,  and  she  pushed  him  away.  "This  is  ter- 
rible !  I  shall  die,  I  shall  die  !  "  Then  came  the  same 
unearthly  cry. 

Levin  seized  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  rushed  from  the 
room. 

"  That  is  nothing  :  all  is  going  well,"  whispered  Dolly  to 
him. 


ANNA    KARtiNINA.  675 

But  say  what  they  might,  he  knew  now  that  all  was  lost. 
He  leaned  against  the  lintel,  and  asked  himself  if  it  could  be 
Kitty  uttering  such  shrieks.  The  child  was  as  nothing  to  him  : 
now  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  hated  it. 

"Doctor,  what  does  that  mean?  My  God!"  he  said, 
seizing  the  doctor's  arm  as  he  went  in. 

"•It  is  the  end,"  replied  the  doctor;  and  his  face  was  so 
serious,  as  he  said  this,  that  Levin  thought  he  meant  that 
Kitty  was  dead. 

Not  knowing  what  would  become  of  him,  he  went  back  to 
the  bedroom,  expecting  to  die  with  his  wife.  Suddenly  the 
cries  ceased.  He  could  not  believe  it,  but  he  could  not 
doubt :  and  he  heard  a  gentle  rustling  and  a  hasty  breath- 
ing, and  his  wife's  voice,  as  she  whispered,  with  an  ineffable 
expression  of  happiness,  "It  is  over !  " 

He  raised  his  head:  she  looked  at  him,  as  she  lay  there, 
beautiful  with  a  supernatural  beauty,  and  tried  to  smile  at 
him,  one  hand  resting  on  the  counterpane. 

Coming  suddenly  out  of  that  mysterious  and  terrible 
world  where  he  had  been  living  for  twenty-two  hours,  Levin 
felt  himself  transported  into  a  reality  of  luminous  hap- 
piness, and  he  could  not  bear  it.  The  cords  long  tense 
snapped.  He  burst  into  tears  ;  and  the  sobs  of  joy  which  he 
could  not  foresee,  shook  his  whole  body  so  violently  that  he 
could  not  speak.  He  knelt  beside  Kitty,  and  pressed  his 
lips  ou  her  hand,  and  her  gentle  fingers  answered  his  caress. 
Meantime,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  in  the  skilful  hands  of 
Lizavyeta  Petrovna,  like  the  small,  uncertain  flame  of  a  lamp, 
flickered  the  life  of  a  human  being,  which  just  before  had 
not  been,  and  which  with  every  right  and  every  responsibility 
would  live,  and  hand  its  life  down. 

"  He  lives,  he  lives  !  da!  it  is  a  boy  !  Don't  be  worried," 
Levin  heard  Lizavyeta's  voice  sa}-iug,  while  with  a  trembling 
hand  she  slapped  the  little  one's  back. 

And  amid  the  silence  was  heard  a  voice,  absolutely  dif- 
ferent from  any  that  had  ever  spoken  in  the  room.  It 
was  the  bold,  decided,  imperious,  almost  impertinent,  voice 
of  the  new  human  being,  which  had  come  whence  no  one 
knew. 

Just  before.  Levin  would  unhesitatingly  have  believed,  if 
he  had  been  told  that  Kitty  was  dead,  that  he  himself  with 
her  was  dead,  and  that  their  children  were  angels,  and  that 
they  were  all  in  the  presence  of  God.  •  And  now  that  he  had 


076  S-NNA  KAR£XINA. 


come  back  to  reality,  it  took  a  prodigious  effort  to  admit 
that  his  wife  was  alive,  that  she  was  doing  well,  and  that  he 
had  a  son.  Kitty  was  saved,  her  suffering  was  passed,  and 
he  was  inexpressibly  happy.  That  he  could  understand  ; 
but  the  child  !  Whence  ?  Why  ?  What  was  it  ?  He  could 
not  wont  himself  to  the  thought  of  it.  It  seemed  to  him 
somehow  too  much,  too  overwhelming  ;  and  it  was  long  be- 
fore he  became  accustomed  to  it. 


XVI. 

THE  old  prince,  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  and  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  met  at  Levin's  the  next  morning,  about  ten  o'clock,  to 
learn  news  of  Kitty. 

It  seemed  to  Levin  that  he  was  separated  from  yesterday 
by  a  hundred  years.  He  heard  the  others  talk,  and  tried  to 
descend  to  their  level  from  the  heights  which  he  had  scaled, 
that  he  might  not  offeud  them.  While  talking  about  indif- 
ferent things,  he  was  thinking  of  his  wife,  of  the  state  of 
her  health,  and  of  his  son,  to  the  idea  of  whose  existence  he 
was  trying  to  accustom  himself.  A  wife's  part  in  life  had 
been  new  and  incomprehensible  to  him,  even  after  his  mar- 
riage ;  but  now  the  place  she  occupied  was  so  lofty,  that  he 
could  not  begin  to  realize  it.  He  heard  the  men  talking 
about  the  club ;  but  he  was  thinking,  "  What  is  she  doing 
now?  Is  she  asleep?  How  is  she?  What  is  in  her  mind? 
Is  the  son  Dmitri  crying?  "  And  in  the  midst  of  the  conver- 
sation, in  the  midst  of  a  sentence,  he  stopped,  and  left  the 
room. 

"  Find  out  if  I  can  see  her,"  said  the  old  prince. 

"  Very  good —  right  away,"  replied  Levin,  as  he  started 
for  her  room. 

She  was  not  asleep,  but  was  softly  talking  with  her  mother, 
making  plans  about  the  christening. 

She  lay  comfortably  arranged  in  bed,  with  her  hands  rest- 
ing on  the  counterpane,  and  a  peasant's  tcheptchik  [rnob- 
cap],  with  blue  ribbons,  on  her  head.  Her  face  lighted  up 
more  and  more  brightly  as  he  approached  her.  It  had  the 
superhuman  calm  which  one  sees  in  death,  but  instead  of  a 
farewell,  she  welcomed  him  to  a  new  life.  An  emotion,  like 
that  which  he  had  felt  again  and  again  during  her  agony, 
seized  his  heart.  She  took  his  hand,  and  asked  him  if  he 
had  slept. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  GT7 

He  could  not  answer,  but  turned  his  head  away,  distrusting 
his  self-control. 

"  I  have  had  a  nap,  Kostia,"  she  said;  "and  I  feel  so 
well  now."  She  looked  at  him,  and  suddenly  the  expression 
of  her  face  changed.  She  heard  her  baby  cry. 

"  Give  him  to  me,  Lizavyeta  Petrovua,  and  let  me  show 
him  to  his  father,"  she  said. 

"  Nu,  vat!  Let  papa  look,"  said  the  nurse,  taking  up 
and  showing  a  strange,  red,  uncertain  something.  %i  Wait, 
we  must  dress  it  first,"  said  Lizavyeta  Petrovua,  as  she 
swathed  the  child,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

Levin,  as  he  looked  at  the  poor  little  bit  of  humanity,  tried 
in  vain  to  discover  some  paternal  sentiments  within  his  soul. 
The  only  feeling  was  one  of  repulsion  ;  but  when  they  took 
off  its  things,  and  he  saw  its  little,  delicate  arms  and  legs, 
still  saffron-colored,  and  when  he  saw  the  nurse  handling  its 
little,  waving  arms,  and  putting  them  into  linen  garments, 
such  pity  seized  him,  and  such  terror,  lest  she  should  hurt  it, 
that  he  made  a  gesture  to  stop  her. 

Lizavyeta  Petrovna  laughed.  "Never  fear,  never  fear," 
she  said. 

When  the  child  was  dressed,  and  metamorphosed  into  a 
regular  doll,  Lizavyeta  Petrovna  tossed  him  up  and  down,  as 
though  proud  of  her  work,  and  held  him  off  so  that  Levin 
might  see  his  son  in  all  his  glory. 

Kitty,  not  taking  her  eyes  from  him,  was  alarmed.  "Give 
him  to  me,  give  him  to  me,"  she  cried  ;  and  she  lifted  herself 
up. 

"  You  must  know  that  such  motions  are  necessary.  Be 
patient :  I  will  give  him  to  3*011.  But  we  must  let  pupasha 
see  what  a  fine  young  man  we  are." 

And  Lizavyeta  Petrovna  handed  to  Levin  with  one  hand 
—  the  other  supported  the  limp  occiput  —  this  weak,  red 
creature,  whose  head  fell  limply  on  its  swaddling-clothes. 
All  that  was  to  be  seen  of  it  was  a  nose,  a  pair  of  unsteady 
eyes,  and  smacking  lips. 

"  A  splendid  baby,"  said  Lizavyeta  Petrovna. 

Levin  drew  a  deep  breath  of  mortification.  This  splendid 
baby  [  prekrasnut  reby6nok~\  inspired  him  only  with  a  feeling 
of  pity  and  disgust.  It  was  not  at  all  the  feeling  that  he 
expected.  He  turned  away  while  the  nurse  placed  it  in 
Kitty's  arms.  Suddenty  Kitty  laughed :  the  baby  had  taken 
the  breast. 


678  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

"Nu!  that's  enough,  that's  enough,"  said  Lizavjeta 
Petrovna ;  but  Kitty  would  not  let  go  of  her  son,  who  had 
gone  to  sleep  close  to  her. 

k'  Look  at  him  now,"  said  she,  turning  the  child  towards 
his  father.  The  little  face  suddenly  took  on  an  older  expres- 
sion, and  the  child  sneezed. 

Levin  felt  ready  to  cry  with  tenderness  :  he  kissed  his  wife, 
and  left  the  room. 

How  different  were  the  feelings  which  this  little  being 
awakened  in  him  from  what  he  had  expected !  There  was 
neither  pride  nor  joy  in  the  feeling,  but  rather  a  new  and 
painful  fear.  His  fear  at  first  was  so  acute  lest  this  poor, 
defenceless  creature  might  suffer,  that  it  drowned  the  strange 
feeling  of  thoughtless  joy,  and  even  pride,  that  rose  in  his 
heart  when  the  infant  sneezed. 


XVII. 

THE  affairs  of  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  reached  a  critical 
stage. 

He  had  spent  the  money  brought  by  the  sale  of  two-thirds 
of  the  timber,  and  the  merchant  would  not  advance  any 
thing  more  ;  as  Dolly,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  asserting 
her  rights  to  her  personal  property,  had  refused  her  signature 
to  the  contract  when  it  \vas  proposed  to  give  a  receipt  for 
the  sale  of  the  last  third  of  the  wood.  All  the  salary  was 
used  up  for  household  expenses,  and  for  the  payment  of  un- 
avoidable debts.  There  was  absolutely  no  money  to  be  had. 

It  was  disagreeable  and  awkward,  and  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch felt  that  it  ought  not  to  be  continued.  The  reason  of 
it,  in  his  opinion,  lay  in  the  fact  that  he  got  too  small  a 
salary.  The  place  which  he  held  had  been  very  good  five 
years  before,  but  it  was  so  no  longer.  Petrof ,  the  director 
of  a  bank,  got  twelve  thousand  rubles  ;  Sventitsky,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Council,  got  seventeen  thousand  ;  Mitin,  the  head 
of  a  bank,  got  fifty  thousand. 

"Apparently  I  have  been  asleep,  and  they  have  forgotten 
me,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  to  himself;  and  he  began  to 
be  obsequious,  and  to  look  around  ;  and  at  the  end  of  the 
winter  he  discovered  a  very  good  place,  and  matured  his 
attack  upon  it,  beginning  at  Moscow  through  his  uncles,  his 
aunts,  and  his  friends,  and  then,  when  success  seemed  as- 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  679 

sured,  he  himself  went  down  to  Petersburg.  It  was  one  of 
those  places  which  nowadays  are  found  varying  in  impor- 
tance, worth  anywhere  from  one  to  fifty  thousand  rubles  a 
year.  This  place  was  in  the  Commission  of  the  Consolidated 
Agency  for  the  Credit-Balance  of  the  Southern  Railroad  and 
the  Banking  Establishments.  This  place,  like  many  others, 
required  at  once  such  varied  talents  and  such  extraordinary 
activity,  that  it  is  hard  to  find  them  united  in  one  person  :  in- 
deed, it  was  hopeless  to  find  anybody  with  all  these  qualities, 
and  therefore  it  is  better  to  put  in  an  honest  man.  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  according  to  Muscovite  society,  was  an  honest 
man  in  every  sense  of  the  term  ;  for  in  Moscow  the  word 
meaning  honesty  has  two  forms,  depending  on  its  accent. 
They  speak  of  an  honest  agent,  an  honest  writer,  an  honest 
journal,  an  honest  institution  ;  and  it  means  not  only  that 
men  or  institutions  are  not  dishonest,  but  that  they  know  how 
to  adapt  themselves  to  circumstances.  Stepau  Arkadyevitch 
belonged  in  Moscow  to  that  class  of  people  who  used  that 
convenient  word  ;  and,  as  he  passed  for  honest,  he  therefore 
felt  that  he  had  a  better  right  than  any  one  else  to  that  place. 

This  place  was  worth  from  seven  to  ten  thousand  rubles  a 
year  ;  and  Oblonsky  could  accept  this  position,  and  not  resign 
his  present  duties.  Every  thing  depended  upon  two  minis- 
ters, a  lady,  and  two  Jews  ;  and,  although  they  were  ready 
to  grant  what  he  wished,  he  had  to  go  to  Petersburg  to  solicit 
their  aid.  After  faithfully  promising  Anna  that  he  would 
see  Kare'nin  about  the  divorce,  he  extorted  fifty  rubles  from 
Dolly,  and  set  out  for  Petersburg. 

Kare'uin  received  him  in  his  library ;  bnt  he  was  obliged 
to  listen  for  some  moments  to  the  exposition  of  a  project 
for  reforming  the  status  of  Russian  finance  before  he  could 
put  in  a  word  about  his  personal  affairs  and  about  Anna. 

"Da/  That  is  very  true,"  said  he,  when  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch  took  off  the  pince-nez  [eye-glasses],  without  which 
he  could  not  read  now,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  his  brother- 
in-law  ;  "  that  is  very  true  in  detail ;  but,  accurately  speak- 
ing, is  not  liberty  the  leading  principle  of  the  age?  " 

"Yes,  but  the  new  principle  which  I  advocate  embraces 
that  of  liberty,"  replied  Alekse'i  Aleksandrovitch,  accenting 
the  word  "  embraces,"  putting  on  his  pince-nez  to  read  over 
the  passage  where  he  had  said  that  very  thing ;  and  turning 
over  the  pages  of  his  elegantly  written  manuscript,  he  read 
the  conclusive  paragraph  :  — 


680  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

"  '  For  if  I  sustain  the  protectionist  system,  it  is  not  for 
the  advantage  of  the  few,  but  for  the  good  of  all  classes, 
both  low  and  high  ; '  and  it  is  that  which  they  will  not  under- 
stand," added  he,  looking  over  his  pince-nez  at  Oblonsk}', 
"  absorbed  as  they  are  in  their  personal  interests,  and  so 
easily  satisfied  with  hollow  phrases." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  knew  that  when  Karenin  began  to 
speak  of  what  was  said  and  done  by  those  who  were  opposed 
to  his  views,  he  was  nearing  the  end  ;  and  he  did  not  try  to 
escape  "the  principle  of  liberty,"  but  waited  until  Aleksei 
Aleksandrovitch  came  to  a  pause,  and  turned  over  the  leaves 
of  his  manuscript  with  a  thoughtful  air. 

"  Ach!  By  the  way,"  said  Oblonsky,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  "I  shall  beg  of  you,  in  case  you  should  meet  Po- 
rnorsky,  to  say  a  word  to  him  for  me.  I  want  to  be  appointed 
member  of  the  Commission  of  the  Combined  Agencies  of  the 
Credit-Balance  of  the  Railroads  of  the  South."  Stepau 
Arkadyevitch  could  mention  with  great  rapidity  the  name  of 
the  position  to  which  he  aspired.  He  knew  it  by  heart. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  asked  what  the  functions  of  this 
new  commission  were  to  be,  and  then  he  reflected.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  existence  of  this  commission  was  directly 
opposed  to  his  projects  of  reform.  But  as  the  operations 
of  this  commission  were  very  complicated,  and  his  own 
projects  of  reform  occupied  a  very  vast  field,  he  felt  that  he 
could  not  settle  this  question  at  a  glance. 

"Of  course  I  could  speak  to  him,  but  why  are  you  so  very 
anxious  for  this  place?" 

"The  salary  is  good, — nine  thousand  rubles,  —  and  my 
means  "  — 

"Nine  thousand  rubles!"  repeated  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch, and  he  frowned.  The  high  emolument  of  this  position 
reminded  him  that  Stepan  Arkadyevitch's  supposititious  func- 
tion was  directly  opposed  to  the  principal  feature  of  his  pro- 
ject, that  which  bore  upon  economy. 

"  I  believe,  and  I  show  in  my  pamphlet,  that  in  our  day 
these  enormous  salaries  are  signs  of  the  defectiveness  of  our 
economic  assiette  [position]  of  our  administration." 

"Da!  What  do  you  want ?"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 
"  Nu!  Let  us  see.  A  bank-director  gets  ten  thousand  ru- 
bles, —  he  is  worth  it ;  or  an  engineer  gets  twenty  thousand. 
These  are  not  sinecures." 

"  In  my  opinion,  salaries  ought  to  be  regarded  as  payments 


ANNA   K AE £ NINA.  681 

for  merchandise,  and  consequently  ought  to  be  subject  to  the 
same  law  of  supply  atid  demand.  If  salaries  are  not  sub- 
ject to  this  law,  —  if,  for  example,  I  see  two  engineers  of 
equal  capacity,  having  pursued  the  same  studies,  one  receiv- 
ing forty  thousand  rubles,  while  the  other  contents  himself 
with  two  thousand  ;  or  if  I  see  a  hussar,  who  has  no  special 
knowledge,  become  director  of  a  bank  with  a  phenomenal 
salary,  —  I  conclude  that  there  is  an  economic  vice  which  has 
a  disastrous  influence  on  the  civil  service." 

"•  You  will  acknowledge,  however,  that  it  is  essential  to  fill 
these  posts  with  honest  men,"  interrupted  Stepan  Arkady  e- 
vitch,  emphasizing  the  adjective. 

But  the  Muscovite  signification  of  the  adjective  had  no 
force  for  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch.  "  Honesty  is  only  nega- 
tive merit,"  he  replied. 

"  But  you  will  do  me  a  great  favor  to  speak  a  little  word 
to  Pomorsky." 

"  Da  !  certainly  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  Bolgarinof  would 
be  more  influential." 

"  Bolgarinof  is  well  disposed,"  Oblonsky  hastened  to  say ; 
and  he  blushed  as  he  thought  uneasily  of  the  visit  which  he 
had  made  that  very  morning  to  this  Jew.  To  think  that  he, 
Prince  Oblonsky,  a  descendant  of  Rurik,  after  waiting  two 
hours  in  the  ante-room,  had  been  received  with  obsequious 
politeness  by  this  Bolgarinof,  who  had  ill-concealed  his 
triumph  at  having  a  prince  among  his  other  solicitors. 

He  had  almost  been  exposed  to  a  refusal,  but  he  had  made 
a  terrible  pun  on  the  word  Jew,  —  how  he  had  to  cheiv  the  cud 
of  expectation  ; *  —  and  though  he  had  forgotten  for  a  time 
the  unpleasantness  of  the  situation,  it  suddenly  came  back  to 
him,  and  filled  him  with  shame. 


XVIII. 

"  Now,  I  have  yet  one  more  thing  to  talk  over  with  you  ; 
and  you  know  what  it  is  about,  —  Anna,"  said  Stepan  Arkad- 
yevitch,  shutting  out  disagreeable  memories. 

When  Oblonsky  spoke  Anna's  name,  Kare"nin's  face  sud- 
denly changed,  and  took  on  an  expression  of  corpse-like 
rigidity  in  place  of  its  former  vivacity. 

1  "  Builo  dyelo  do-Zhida  i  ya  dozhida-\e»." 


682  ANNA  KAE&NINA. 

"What  more  do  you  want  of  me?"  said  he,  turning 
about  on  his  arm-chair,  and  shutting  his  pince-nez. 

"A  decision  —  some  sort  of  a  decision,  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch.  I  address  you,  not  as" — he  was  going  to  say 
'•  a  deceived  husband,"  but  stopped,  and  substituted  with 
little  appropriateness,  "  not  as  a  statesman,  but  simply  as  a 
man,  and  a  good  man,  and  a  Christian.  You  ought  to  have 
pity  on  her." 

"  In  what  way  could  I  properly  ?"  asked  Kareniu  quietly. 

"  Yes,  have  pity  upon  her.  If  you  saw  her  as  I  do,  —  I 
have  seen  her  all  winter,  —  you  would  pity  her.  Her  position 
is  cruel." 

"I  thought,"  said  Kardnin  suddenly,  in  a  piercing, 
almost  whining  voice,  "  that  Anna  Arkadyevna  had  obtained 
all  that  she  wished." 

"  Ach!  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  for  God's  sake,  don't 
make  recriminations.  What  is  past  is  past ;  and  you  know 
what  she  is  now  waiting  for  and  hoping  for  is  —  the  divorce." 

"  But  I  understood,  that  in  case  I  kept  my  son,  Anna 
Arkadyevna  refused  the  divorce ;  and  so  my  silence  was 
equivalent  to  a  reply,  and  I  thought  the  question  settled.  I 
consider  it  settled,"  said  he,  with  more  and  more  warmth. 

"  For  God's  sake,  don't  get  angry,"  said  Stepan  Arkactye- 
vitch,  touching  his  brother-in-law's  knee.  "This  is  not 
settled.  If  you  will  allow  me  to  recapitulate,  the  affair 
stands  thus  :  When  you  separated,  you  were  as  magnanimous 
as  was  possible  to  be.  You  granted  her  every  thing  —  her 
freedom,  even  a  divorce  if  she  wanted  one.  She  appreciated 
it.  No,  you  don't  think  it ;  but  she  appreciated  it  absolutely, 
—  to  such  a  degree,  that,  at  first,  feeling  her  guilt  towards 
you,  she  could  not  reason  about  it  at  all.  She  refused  every 
thing.  But  the  reality  and  time  have  shown  her  that  her 
position  is  painful  and  intolerable." 

"  Anna  Arkadyevna's  life  cannot  interest  me,"  said  Ka- 
r^nin,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"  Permit  me  to  disbelieve  that,"  replied  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch  gently.  "  Her  position  is  painful  to  her,  and  without 
any  escape  whatsoever.  She  deserves  it,  you  say.  She  ac- 
knowledges that,  and  does  not  complain.  She  says  up  and 
down  that  she  should  never  dare  to  ask  any  thing  of  you. 
But  I,  and  all  of  her  relatives,  all  who  love  her,  beg  and 
implore  you  to  have  pity  on  her.  Why  should  she  suffer? 
WThose  advantage  is  it?  " 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  683 

"  Excuse  me :  you  seem  to  accuse  me  of  being  the  cause 
of  her  sufferings." 

"  Da!  not  at  all,  not  at  all,  understand  me,"  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  touching  Kar&nin'a  arm,  as  if  he  believed 
that  personal  contact  would  have  a  mollifying  effect  on  his 
brother-in-law.  "  I  merely  say  this.  Her  position  is  painful ; 
and  you  can  relieve  it,  and  it  will  not  cost  you  any  thing. 
Then,  too,  you  have  promised.  Let  me  arrange  the  matter : 
you  shall  have  no  trouble  about  it." 

••  My  consent  has  been  already  given  ;  and  I  had  supposed 
that  Anna  Arkadyevua  would  in  her  turn  have  the  generosity 
to  understand" —  Karenin's  trembling  lips  could  hardly 
utter  the  words. 

"She  leaves  all  to  your  generosity.  She  asks,  she  im- 
plores for  only  one  thing  —  to  be  relieved  from  this  unendur- 
able position  in  which  she  has  placed  herself.  She  asks  for 
her  son.  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  you  are  a  good  man. 
Just  enter  for  a  moment  into  her  feelings.  The  question  of 
the  divorce  is  for  her  a  matter  of  life  or  death.  If  you  had 
not  given  your  promise,  she  would  have  been  resigned, 
and  lived  in  the  country.  But  you  did  give  your  promise ; 
and  she  wrote  you,  and  came  to  Moscow.  And  there  in 
Moscow,  where  every  familiar  face  was  a  knife  in  her  heart, 
she  has  been  living  for  six  months,  every  day  expecting  an 
answer.  Her  situation  is  that  of  a  condemned  criminal, 
who-  for  mou*ths  has  had  the  rope  around  his  neck,  and  does 
not  know  whether  he  is  to  expect  pardon  or  execution. 
Pity  her;  —  and,  besides,  I  will  take  care  to  arrange  all  — 
vos  scrupules." 

"lam  not  speaking  of  that,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch,  with  some  disgust;  "but  I  have  perhaps  promised 
more  than  I  have  the  right  to  promise." 

"  Then,  you  refuse  to  do  what  you  have  promised?  " 

"  I  never  refused  to  do  all  that  I  could  ;  but  I  must  have 
time  to  consider."  k 

"  Xo,  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,"  said  Oblonsky,  leaping 
to  his  feet,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  believe  this.  She  is  as  un- 
happy  as  it  is  possible  for  a  woman  to  be  ;  and  you  cannot 
refuse  such  "  — 

"  Vous  professez  d'etre  nn  libre  pense.ur  [you  profess  to  be 
a  freethinker]  ;  but  I,  as  a  believer,  cannot  defy  the  law  of 
Christianity  in  a  matter  so  important." 

"But  in  Christian  communities,  and  here  in  Russia,  di- 


684  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

vorce  is  permitted,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch.  "Divorce 
is  permitted  by  our  Church." 

"  Allowed,  but  not  in  this  acceptation." 

"  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  I  don't  know  you,"  said  Ob- 
lonsky,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "  You  are  not  the  same 
man  you  were.  Did  you  not  forgive  all?  and  weren't  we 
grateful  to  3-011,  and  moved  by  genuine  Christian  feeling? 
Weren't  you  ready  to  sacrifice  every  thing?  You  yourself 
said,  '  If  any  man  will  take  away  thy  coat,  let  him  have  thy 
cloak  also.'  And  now  "  — 

"  I  beg  of  you,"  said  Kare'nin,  rising  suddenly,  and 
trembling  from  head  to  foot,  "  I  beg  of  you  —  to  cut  short, 
to  cut  short  this  interview  !  " 

"  Ach,  mi!  Pardon  me,  pardon  me,  if  I  have  offended 
you  !  "  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  in  confusion,  holding  out 
his  hand ;  ' '  but  I  had  to  fulfil  the  mission  I  was  charged 
with." 

Kare'nin  put  his  hand  in  that  of  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  and 
said,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  — 

"  I  must  have  time  to  think  about  it,  and  seek  for  light. 
You  shall  have  my  final  answer  day  after  to-morrow." 


XIX. 

STEPAN  ARKADYEVITCII  was  going  out  when  Kornei'  came 
in,  and  announced,  '•  Serg6i  Alekseye'vitch." 

"  Who  is  Sergei  Alekseye'vitch?"  Oblonsky  began  to  ask, 
for  a  moment  not  remembering. 

"  Ach,  Serozha  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  and  here  was  I,  think- 
ing it  was  some  director  of  a  department,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  Anna  begged  me  to  see  him." 

And  he  recalled  the  sad,  timid  way  in  which  Anna  had 
said  to  him,  "  You  will  see  him,  and  can  find  out  what  he  is 
doing,  and  where  he  is,  and  who  is  taking  care  of  him.  And. 
Stiva, — if  possible!  Would  it  be  possible  .  .  .  ?" 

He  knew  what  she  meant  by  the  words,  "if  possible." 
She  began  to  say,  if  it  were  possible  to  get  the  divorce, 
could  she  also  have  the  child.  But  now  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch knew  that  this  was  out  of  the  question.  He  was  none 
the  less  glad  to  see  the  boy  again,  though  Kare'nin  hastened 
to  warn  him  not  to  talk  to  him  of  his  mother. 

"  He  was  very  ill  after  that  interview  with  his  mother, 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  685 

which  we  were  not  prepared  for,  and  for  a  while  we  feared 
for  his  life.  Now  that  he  is  better,  and  much  strengthened 
by  sea-bathing,  I  have  followed  the  doctor's  advice,  and 
sent  him  to  school.  Activity,  being  with  companions  of  his 
own  age,  have  a  happy  influence  on  him  :  his  health  is  good, 
and  he  is  studying  well." 

"Why,  he  is  no  longer  Serozha :  he  is  full-grown  Sergei 
Alekseyevitch,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevilch  with  a  smile,  as  a 
handsome,  tall,  robust  boy,  dressed  in  a  kurtotchka  [jacket] 
and  long  pantaloons,  came  in.  He  bowed  to  his  uncle  as  to 
a  stranger.  Then,  as  he  remembered  him,  he  reddened, 
turned  away  angrily,  and  held  out  his  school-notes  to  his 
father. 

"  Nu!  that  is  excellent,"  said  Karenin  :  "you  can  go  and 
play." 

••  He  has  grown  tall  and  slender,  and  lost  his  childish  look : 
I  like  it,"  remarked  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  with  a  smile. 

"  Da!  you  remember  me?  " 

The  boy  quickly  glanced  at  his  father. 

"  I  remember  you,  raou  oncfe,"  answered  the  boy,  casting 
down  his  eyes. 

The  uncle  called  the  malchik  to  him,  and  took  his  hand. 
"  Xn!  how  are  you?"  he  asked,  wanting  to  talk,  but  not 
knowing  what  to  say. 

The  boy,  blushing,  and  not  answering,  withdrew  his  hand, 
and  as  soon  as  he  could  flew  away  like  a  bird. 

A  year  had  passed  since  Serozha  had  seen  his  mother. 
During  this  time,  his  remembrance  of  her  had  been  growing 
gradually  fainter ;  and  the  life  he  led,  surrounded,  as  he  was, 
by  boys  of  his  own  age,  contributed  to  this.  He  even  tried 
to  get  rid  of  these  remembrances,  as  being  unworthy  of  a 
man  ;  and,  as  no  one  spoke  to  him  of  his  mother,  he  con- 
cluded that  his  parents  had  quarrelled,  and  that  he  must 
accustom  himself  to  the  idea  of  remaining  with  his  father. 
The  sight  of  his  uncle,  who  looked  like  his  mother,  was 
unpleasant  to  him,  because  it  awakened  memories  which 
caused  him  shame  ;  and  it  was  still  more  unpleasant,  be- 
cause, from  certain  words  which  he  had  caught  as  he  entered 
the  door,  and  b}T  the  peculiar  expression  of  his  father's  and 
his  uncle's  face,  he  knew  that  they  were  talking  about  his 
mother.  And  in  order  not  to  blame  his  father,  and  espe- 
cially not  to  think  of  the  past,  he  wanted  to  get  out  of  his 
uncle's  way. 


686  ANNA  KARtiNlNA. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  shortly  after,  as  he  went  out,  found 
the  boy  playing  on  the  stairs,  and  asked  him  how  he  was 
getting  along  in  his  classes  at  school.  Serozha,  out  of  his 
father's  presence,  talked  freely. 

"  I  have  a  railroad  now,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  one  of  his 
questions.  "  Just  see  !  These  two  are  sitting  on  the  seat; 
they  are  passengers  ;  and  there  is  one  man  trying  to  stand  on 
the  seat ;  and  they  are  all  going,  and  the  doors  open  in  front. 
Nu!  and  here  it's  very  hard  for  the  conductor." 

"•  Is  that  the  one  standing?  "  asked  Stepau  Arkadyevitch, 
amused. 

"  Yes.  He  has  to  be  bold  and  skilful,  because  the  train 
comes  to  a  stop  very  sudden,  and  he  might  get  thrown  over." 

"  Da!  this  is  no  joke,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  sadly, 
as  he  looked  at  the  boy's  bright  eyes,  which  were  like  his 
mother's,  and  which  had  already  lost  their  childish  look  of 
innocence.  And  although  he  had  promised  Aleksei  Aleksan- 
drovitch  not  to  speak  of  Anna,  he  could  not  resist. 

"  Do  you  remember  your  mother?  "  he  asked  suddenly. 

"  No,"  answered  the  child  quickly,  turning  red;  and  his 
uncle  could  not  make  him  talk  any  more. 

When  the  Russian  tutor  found  Serozha  on  the  stairs,  half 
an  hour  after,  he  could  not  make  out  whether  he  was  cry- 
ing or  was  sulky. 

"  Did  you  hurt  yourself  when  you  fell?  "  he  asked.  "  I 
said  this  was  a  dangerous  game,  and  I  shall  have  to  tell  your 
father." 

"If  I  had,  no  one  should  find  it  out,"  answered  the 
boy. 

"  Nu!  what's  the  matter,  then?  " 

"  Let  me  alone  !  What  is  it  to  him  whether  I  remember 
or  not?  "  and  the  boy  seemed  to  defy  not  only  his  tutor,  but 
the  whole  world. 


STEPAN  ARKADTEVITCH,  as  usual,  did  not  devote  his  time 
exclusively  to  business  at  Petersburg.  He  came,  he  said,  to 
refresh  himself  after  musty  Moscow.  For  Moscow,  in  spite 
of  its  cafes-chantants,  and  its  omnibuses,  was  still  only  a 
sort  of  marsh,  in  which  one  became  morally  bogged.  The 
result  of  too  long  a  compulsory  stay  in  that  stagnant  pool 
was  enfeebling  to  body  and  mind.  Oblonsky  himself  became 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  687 

bittor,  quarrelled  with  his  wife,  was  pre-occupied  with  his 
health,  the  education  of  his  children,  and  the  petty  details  of 
the  household.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  worry  about  his 
debts.  As  soon  as  he  set  foot  in  Petersburg,  and  entered 
that  circle  where  life  was  really  life,  and  not  vegetating,  as 
in  Moscow,  immediately  all  such  thoughts  disappeared  like 
wax  in  the  fire.  His  wife  —  He  had  just  been  talking 
with  Prince  Tchetchensky.  Prince  Tchetchensky  had  a  wife 
and  family, — grown-up  children  ;  and  he  had  another  estab- 
lishment, outside  the  law,  and  in  this  also  there  were  children. 
But  though  the  first  family  was  well  enough  in  its  way, 
Prince  Tchetchensky  felt  happier  with  his  second  family  ; 
and  he  told  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  that  he  had  introduced 
his  oldest  legitimate  son  into  his  other  family,  to  train  him 
and  develop  him.  What  would  have  been  said  about  that 
in  Moscow?  Children?  In  Petersburg,  fathers  didn't  trou- 
ble themselves  with  their  children,  after  the  fashion  of  Lvof. 
Children  went  to  day-school  or  boarding-school,  and  they 
were  not  taken  out  of  their  proper  places  by  having  a  promi- 
nent position  given  them  in  the  family.  The  government 
service?  The  service,  too,  was  not  that  tiresome,  hopeless 
tread-mill  that  it  was  in  Moscow.  Here  there  was  interest 
in  the  service.  A  man  could  make  friends,  get  patronage, 
and  suddenly  find  himself  high  in  his  career,  like  Brianzef, 
whom  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  met  that  evening,  and  who  was 
now  first  dignitary. 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  met  also  one  of  his  friends, 
Bartnynansky,  who  now  spent  fifteen  thousand  rubles,  and 
whose  influence  was  rapidly  increasing.  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch was  talking  with  him,  and  said,  — 

••  You  seem  to  have  some  connection  with  Mordviusky. 
You  might  say  a  little  word  to  him  in  my  behalf.  It  is  a 
place  which  I  should  like  to  have,  member  of  the  commis- 
sion ' '  — 

"  Nu!  I  won't  forget,  only  what  pleasure  can  you  have  in 
attending  to  this  railroad  business  with  the  Jews?  That's 
always  a  wretched  business." 

I  need  money  :  I  must  have  something  to  live  on." 

But  don't  you  live,  then?" 

Yes,  but  in  debt." 

Much?"  asked  Bartnyansky  sympathetically. 

Yes  :  twenty  thousand  rubles." 

Bartnyansky  broke  out  into  a  gay  laugh. 


688  ANNA   KAEtiNINA. 

"Happy  mortal!  I  have  a  million  and  a  half  of  debts, 
and  not  a  ruble  ;  and,  as  }7ou  see,  I  live  all  the  same." 

And  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  saw  that  this  was  not  mere 
words,  but  was  actually  true  ;  and  he  found  many  others  in 
the  same  condition.  Zhevakhof  had  three  hundred  thousand 
rubles  of  debts,  and  not  a  kopek.  Petrovsky  had  spent  five 
millions,  and  yet  had  only  twenty  thousand  salary. 

Petersburg  had  a  delightful  physical  influence  on  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch.  It  made  him  feel  younger.  lie  felt  as  if 
ten  years  had  been  given  to  him.  He  experienced  there  the 
same  feeling  as  his  uncle,  Prince  Peter,  did  abroad. 

"  We  don't  know  how  to  live  here,"  said  this  young  man 
of  sixty  to  him  the  evening  before.  "  For  example  :  I  spent 
the  summer  at  Baden,  and  I  feel  like  a  new  man.  I  enjoy 
my  dinner,  the  women  interest  me :  I'm  well  and  vigorous. 
When  I  come  back  to  Russia,  I  have  to  see  my  wife,  have 
even  to  go  into  the  country  :  I  fall  flat.  I  don't  get  out  of 
my  dressing-gown.  Good-by  to  the  young  beauties :  I  am 
old,  think  of  my  health.  To  make  me  over,  I  go  to  Paris." 

The  relations  between  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  and  Betsy 
Tverskaia  had  been  strange  for  a  long  time.  He  always 
jested  with  her,  and  he  always  said  very  improper  things  by 
way  of  jest,  knowing  that  they  pleased  her  more  than  any 
tiling  else.  The  day  after  his  interview  with  Kar6nin,  Stepau 
Arkadyevitch  went  to  see  her  ;  but  to-day,  though,  under  the 
influence  of  Petersburg  air,  he  conducted  himself  with  more 
than  his  usual  levity  ;  he  felt  that  she  was  not  only  dis- 
pleased, but  was  even  opposed  to  him  ;  and  he  was  glad  to 
have  the  Princess  Miagkai'a  interrupt  a  call  which  was  begin- 
ning to  bore  him. 

"Ah,  here  you  are!  "  said  the  stout  princess,  when  she 
saw  him.  '  "JVW  And  how  is  your  poor  sister?  Do  not 
look  at  me  so.  Since  women  who  are  a  thousand  times  worse 
than  she  throw  stones  at  her,  I  think  she  did  quite  right. 
I  can't  forgive  Vrousky  for  not  letting  me  know  that  she  was 
in  Petersburg.  I  should  have  gone  to  see  her,  and  gone  with 
her  everywhere.  Give  her  my  love.  Nu !  tell  me  about  her." 

"  Da •!  Her  position  is  a  very  painful  one,"  Stepan  Ar- 
kadyevitch began  ;  but  the  princess,  who  was  following  out 
her  idea,  interrupted  him:  "She  did  what  everybody  but 
myself  does  and  hides.  But  she  was  not  willing  to  lie,  and 
she  did  right ;  and  she  has  at  least  bettered  herself  in  having 
forsaken  that  imbecile,  —  I  beg  your  pardon,  — your  brother- 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  689 

in-law.  Everybody  said  he  was  a  genius.  A  genius  !  I  was 
the  only  one  who  said  he  was  a  goose  ;  and  people  have  come 
to  be  of  my  opinion,  now  that  he  has  taken  up  with  the 
Countess  Lidia  and  Landau.  I  should  like  not  to  agree  with 
everybody,  —  it's  stupid  ;  but  this  time  I  can't  help  it." 

"•  Perhaps  you  can  explain  an  enigma.  Yesterday,  talking 
of  the  divorce,  my  brother-in-law  said  to  me  that  he  could 
not  give  me  an  answer  without  reflection  ;  and  this  morn- 
ing I  received  an  invitation  from  Lidia  Ivanovna  for  this 
evening." 

"Nu!  That's  just  it!"  cried  the  princess,  delighted. 
"  They  will  consult  Landau." 

"  Why,  who  is  Landau?  " 

"  What !  you  don't  know  Jules  Landau,  —  le  fameux  Jules 
Landau,  le  clairvoyant?  That's  what  comes  of  living  in  the 
provinces.  Landau,  you  must  know,  was  commfs  [agent] 
of  a  mercantile  house  at  Paris.  He  went  one  day  to  see  a 
doctor,  fell  asleep  in  the  waiting-room,  and,  while  he  was 
asleep,  gave  advice  to  all  the  sick,  —  most  astonishing  advice. 
Then  the  wife  of  Yuri  Melyedinsky  —  you  know  he  was  sick 
—  called  him  to  see  her  husband.  He  treated  her  husband. 
In  my  opinion,  he  didn't  do  him  any  good,  for  Melyedinsky 
is  just  as  sick  as  he  was  before ;  but  his  wife  and  he  believe 
in  Landau.  The}*  took  him  into  their  house,  and  they  brought 
him  to  Russia.  Naturally,  people  here  have  thrown  them- 
selves at  him.  He  treats  everybody.  He  cured  the  Countess 
Bezzubof ;  and  she  fell  so  in  love  with  him,  that  she  has 
adopted  him." 

"  How  !  adopted  him?  " 

"Yes,  I  mean  adopted.  He  isn't  Landau  any  more,  but 
Count  Bezzubof.  But  Lidia  —  and  I  like  her  very  much,  in 
spite  of  her  crankiness  —  must  needs  be  smitten  with  him  ; 
and  nothing  that  she  and  Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch  take  up 
is  decided  without  consulting  him.  Your  sister's  fate  is, 
therefore,  in  the  hands  of  Landau  alias  Count  Bezzubof." 


XXI. 

AFTER  an  excellent  dinner  with  Bartnyansky,  followed  by 
several  glasses  of  brandy,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  went  to  the 
Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna's,  a  little  later  than  the  hour  desig- 
nated. 


690  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

"  Who  is  with  the  countess? — the  Frenchman?"  he  askod 
of  the  Swiss,  as  he  noticed  beside  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch's 
well-known  overcoat,  a  curious  mantle  with  clasps. 

"Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  Karenm  and  the  Count  Bezzu- 
bof,"  answered  the  servant  stolidly. 

''Princess  Miagkai'a  was  right,"  thought  Oblonsky,  as  he 
went  up-stairs.  "  Strange  !  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  cul- 
tivate the  countess.  She  has  great  influence.  If  she  would 
say  a  little  word  in  my  behalf  to  Pomorsky,  it  would  be  just 
the  thing."  It  was  still  very  light  in  the  dvor  [court],  but 
the  blinds  were  drawn  in  the  Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna's  little 
parlor,  and  the  lamps  were  lighted. 

At  a  round  table,  on  which  was  a  lamp,  the  countess  and 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  were  sitting,  engaged  in  a  confiden- 
tial talk.  A  lean,  pale  man.  with  thin  legs  and  a  feminine 
figure,  with  long  hair  falling  over  his  coat-collar,  and  hand- 
some, glowing  eyes,  was  examining  the  portraits  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room.  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  after  having  greeted 
the  khozya'ika  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  involuntarily 
turned  round  to  look  once  more  at  this  singular  personage. 

"  Monsieur  Landau,"  said  the  countess  gently,  and  with 
a  precaution  which  struck  Oblonsky.  The  introduction  was 
made. 

Landau  at  once  approached,  placed  his  moist  hand  in  Ob- 
lonsky's,  and  immediately  went  back  to  look  at  the  portraits. 
Lidia  Ivanovna  and  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  exchanged  sig- 
nificant glances. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  to-day,"  said  the  countess  to 
Oblonsky,  motioning  him  to  a  chair.  "  You  noticed,"  added 
she,  in  a  low  voice,  "that  I  introduced  him  to  you  by  the 
name  of  Landau  ;  but  his  name  is  really  Count  Bezzubof ,  as 
you  probably  know.  Only  he  is  not  fond  of  the  title." 

"  Da!  I  heard  that  he  had  cured  the  Countess  Bezzubof." 

"Yes  :  she  came  to  see  me  to-day,"  said  the  countess,  ad- 
dressing Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  "  and  it  was  sad  to  see 
her.  This  separation  is  terrible  for  her.  It  is  such  a  blow 
to  her." 

"  Then  he  is  positively  going?  " 

"Yes;  he  is  going  to  Paris;  he  has  heard  a  voice,"  said 
Lidia  Ivanovna,  looking  at  Oblonsky. 

"  AcJiI  A  voice?  really  now?"  repeated  he,  feeling  that 
it  was  necessary  to  use  great  prudence  among  these  people 
where  such  strange  things  occurred. 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  691 

"  I  have  known  you  for  a  long  time,"  said  the  countess  to 
Oblonsky  after  a  moment's  silence.  "  Les  amis  de  nos  amis 
sont  nos  amis.  [Our  friends'  friends  are  our  friends.]  But 
to  be  truly  friends,  we  must  know  what  is  passing  in  the  soul 
of  those  we  love  ;  and  I  fear  you  are  not  thus  en  rapport  with 
Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch.  You  understand  what  I  mean?" 
said  she,  raising  her  beautiful,  dreamy  e3-es  to  Stepan  Ar- 
kady evitch. 

"  I  understand  in  part  that  the  position  of  Aleksei  Alek- 
sandrovitch " —  answered  Oblonsky,  not  understanding  in 
the  least,  and  preferring  to  confine  himself  to  generalities. 

"Oh!  I  am  not  talking  of  external  changes,"  said  the 
countess  solemnly,  and  at  the  same  time  looking  tenderly  at 
Aleks£i  Aleksandrovitch,  who  had  risen  to  join  Landau : 
••it  is  his  heart  which  has  changed,  —  he  needs  a  new  heart ; 
—  and  I  very  much  fear  that  you  do  not  realize  sufficiently 
the  great  transformation  which  has  taken  place  in  him." 

"  That  is,  —  in  a  general  way,  I  can  perceive  the  change  in 
him.  We  have  always  been  friends,  and  now  "  —  said  Ob- 
lonsky, answering  the  deep  gaze  of  the  countess  with  a  ten- 
der one,  as  he  thought  with  which  of  the  two  ministers  she 
could  do  him  the  most  effective  service. 

"  This  transformation  cannot  work  harm  to  one's  love 
for  his  neighbor :  on  the  contrary,  it  elevates  it,  it  purifies 
it.  But  I'm  afraid  you  don't  understand  me.  —  Will  you 
not  have  some  tea?  " 

"  Not  altogether,  countess  :  of  course,  his  misfortune  "  — 

"Yes,  one's  misfortunes  become  the  source  of  his  happi- 
ness, when  the  heart  is  renewedy  is  filled  with  Him,"  said 
she,  raising  her  eyes  lovingly  to  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"  I  believe  I  shall  have  to  get  her  to  speak,  to  them  both," 
thought  Oblonsky.  "  Oh  !  assuredly,  countess  ;  but  I  think 
that  these  changes  are  so  personal  [intimui~\  that  no  one 
likes  to  speak  of  them,  even  to  his  most  intimate  friends." 

"  On  the  contrary,  we  ought  to  speak,  and  to  help  one 
another." 

"Yes,  without  doubt;  but  there  are  such  differences  of 
conviction;  and,  moreover"  —  and  Oblonsky  smiled  unc- 
tuously. 

"  There  cannot  be  differences  in  regard  to  sacred  truth." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  he's  going  to  sleep,"  said  Aleks£i 
Aleksandrovitch,  approaching  the  countess,  and  speaking  in 
a  low  voice. 


C92  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

Stepan  Arkadyeviteh  turned  round.  Landau  was  seated 
near  the  window,  with  his  arm  leaning  on  a  chair,  and  his 
head  bowed.  He  raised  it,  and  smiled  in  a  naive  and  child- 
like manner  as  he  saw  the  looks  turned  towards  him. 

"  Don't  pay  any  attention  to  him,"  said  the  countess, 
pushing  a  chair  towards  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch.  "  I  have 
noticed  "  — she  began,  but  was  interrupted  by  a  lackey  bring- 
ing her  a  letter.  She  read  it  through  with  extraordinary 
rapidity,  wrote  a  reply,  and  resumed  the  thread  of  her  dis- 
course. "1  have  noticed  that  Muscovites,  the  men  espe- 
cially, are  very  indifferent  to  religion." 

"Oh,  no,  countess!  I  think  that  Muscovites  have  the  rep- 
utation of  being  very  pious,"  replied  Stepan  Arkadyevitch. 

"But  you  yourself,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  with 
his  weary  smile,  "  seem  to  belong  to  the  category  of  the 
indifferents." 

"  Is  it  possible  to  be  indifferent?  "  cried  Lidia  Ivanovna. 

"  I  am  not  indifferent,  but  rather  in  the  attitude  of  expec- 
tation," answered  Oblonsky,  with  his  most  agreeable  smile. 
"  I  do  not  think  that  the  time  for  me  to  settle  such  questions 
has  come  yet." 

Kareniu  and  the  countess  looked  at  one  another. 

"  We  can  never  know  whether  the  time  for  us  has  come  or 
not :  we  ought  not  even  to  think  whether  we  are  prepared  or 
not,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  sternly.  "  Grace  does 
not  always  light  upon  the  most  deserving,  but  comes  to  those 
who  are  unprepared  ;  witness  Saul." 

"It  seems  that  it  isn't  to  be  now,"  murmured  the  count- 
ess, following  with  her  eyes  the  movements  of  the  French- 
man. Landau  got  up  and  joined  them. 

"May  I  listen?"  asked  he. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  we  did  not  wish  to  disturb  you,"  said  the 
countess  tenderly.  "  Sit  down  with  us." 

"The  essential  thing  is  not  to  close  one's  eyes  to  the 
light,"  continued  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch. 

"  Ach!  if  you  knew  what  a  blessing  we  experience  when 
we  feel  His  constant  presence  in  our  souls,"  said  the  Count- 
ess Lidia  Ivanovna,  with  an  ecstatic  smile. 

' '  But  a  man  may  feel  himself  incapable  of  rising  to  such 
a  height,"  said  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  convinced  that  the 
heights  of  religion  were  not  his  forte,  but  fearing  to  offend 
a  person,  who,  by  one  word  to  Pomorsky,  might  get  him  the 
place  that  he  wanted. 


ANNA  EAR£NINA.  G93 

"You  mean  that  sin  may  prevent  him?"  asked  Liclia 
Ivanovna.  "  But  that  is  a  mistaken  view.  For  him  who 
believes,  there  is  no  more  sin.  Sin  is  already  redeemed. 
Pardon,"  she  added,  as  the  lackey  brought  her  another  note. 
She  road  it,  and  answered  verbally :  then  she  continued, 
"For  the  believer,  there  is  no  sin." 

"  Yes  ;  but  '  faith  without  works  is  dead,'  "  said  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch,  recalling  this  phrase  of  his  catechism. 

"  That  is  the  famous  passage  in  the  Epistle  of  St.  James 
which  has  done  so  much  harm,"  said  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch,  looking  at  the  countess,  as  if  to  recall  frequent  dis- 
cussions on  the  subject.  "  How  many  souls  that  has  blinded 
to  the  faith!  " 

"It  is  our  monks  who  claim  to  be  saved  by  works,  by  theif 
fastings,  their  abstinences,"  said  the  countess,  with  an  air  of 
fastidious  scorn.  "Our  way  is  far  better  and  easier,"  she 
added,  looking  at  Oblonsky  with  that  scorching  smile  with 
which,  at  court,  she  was  wont  to  wither  young  maids  of 
honor,  disconcerted  at  the  newness  of  their  position. 

"Christ,  in  dying  for  us,  saves  us  by  faith,"  resumed 
Kare"niu. 

"  Vous  comprenez  I'angluis?"  [Do  you  understand  Eng- 
lish?] asked  Lidia  Ivanovna;  and,  receiving  an  affirmative 
answer,  she  rose,  and  took  a  small  book  from  a  side-table. 
"  I'm  going  to  read  you,  '  Safe  and  Happy ;  or,  Under  the 
Wing,'  "  said  she,  with  a  look  of  interrogation  at  Kare"nin. 
"It  is  very  short,"  added  she,  resuming  her  seat.  "You 
will  see  the  supernatural  joy  that  tills  the  soul  of  the  be- 
liever. Man  who  believes  cannot  be  unhappy,  because  he  is 
no  longer  alone.  Da!  here  you  see" —  She  was  about 
to  go  on  reading  when  again  the  lackey  appeared.  "  From 
Borozdin?  Say  to-morrow,  at  two  o'clock. —  Yes,"  she 
said,  with  a  sigh,  marking  the  place  in  the  book  with  her 
finger,  and  looking  up  with  her  pensive,  loving  eyes.  "  Are 
yon  acquainted  with  Mary  Sauina?  You  have  heard  of  her 
great  affliction  ?  She  lost  her  only  sou.  She  was  in  despair. 
Nu !  how  is  it  now  ?  She  found  this  friend.  She  thanks 
God  for  the  death  of  her  child.  Such  is  the  happiness  faith 
can  give  !  ' ' 

"  Ah,  yes :  this  is  very" —  murmured  Stepan  Arkadye- 
vitch, glad  to  be  able  to  keep  silent  during  this  reading,  and 
not  risk  compromising  his  affairs.  "  I  shall  do  better  not  to 
ask  any  thing  to-day,"  thought  he. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

"  This  will  be  dull  for  you,"  said  the  countess  to  Landau. 
"  You  don't  understand  English  ;  but  this  is  short." 

"Oh!  I  shall  understand,"  said  he  with  a  smile  ;  and  he 
shut  his  eyes. 

Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch  and  the  countess  looked  at  one 
another,  and  the  reading  began. 


XXII. 

STEFAN  ARKADYEVITCH  felt  greatly  embarrassed  by  this 
strange  conversation.  After  the  monotony  of  life  at  Moscow, 
that  of  Petersburg  afforded  contrasts  so  marked  that  they  dis- 
turbed him.  He  liked  variety,  but  he  preferred  it  more  in  the 
line  of  his  accustomed  ways,  and  felt  himself  at  a  loss  in  such 
a  completely  strange  environment.  As  'he  listened  to  the 
reading,  and  saw  the  brilliant  eyes  of  Landau  —  nctive  or 
knavish,  he  could  not  tell  which — fixed  on  him,  he  felt  a 
peculiar  heaviness  in  his  head.  The  strangest  thoughts 
whirled  through  his  brain.  "  Mary  Sanina  is  happy  in  having 
lost  her  son  "  —  "It  would  be  good  if  I  could  only  smoke  !  " 
—  "To  be  saved,  one  must  believe "  —  "  The  monks  are  all 
wrong,  but  the  countess  is  all  right.  What  makes  my  head 
ache  so?  Is  it  the  brandy,  or  the  strangeness  of  all  this? 
I  have  done  nothing  out  of  the  way  as  yet ;  but  I  sha'n't  ven- 
ture to  ask  any  thing  to-day.  They  say  she  makes  you  say 
your  prayers.  She  wouldn't  make  me  say  mine.  That 
would  be  too  nonsensical.  What  stuff  that  is  she  is  read- 
ing!  But  she  reads  well.  Landau  Bezzubof, —  why  Bezzu- 
bof  ?  "  Suddenly  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  felt  that  his  lower 
jaw  was  irresistibly  beginning  to  accomplish  a  yawn.  He 
smoothed  his  whiskers  to  conceal  the  yawn,  and  shook  him- 
self; but  the  next  moment  he  felt  sure  that  he  was  asleep, 
and  even  beginning  to  snore.  The  voice  of  the  countess 
waked  him,  saying,  "  He's  asleep." 

Stepan  Arkadyevitch  waked  with  a  start,  feeling  a  con- 
sciousness of  guilt.  But  instantly  he  was  relieved  to  find 
that  the  words,  "  He's  asleep,"  had  reference,  not  to  him- 
self, but  to  Landau.  The  Frenchman  was  as  sound  asleep 
as  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  had  been.  But  Stepau  Arkady  e- 
vitch's  nap  would  have  offended  them,  —  he  did  not  think 
of  this  at  the  time,  so  strange  did  every  thing  seem,  —  but 
Landau's  rejoiced  them  exceedingly,  and  especially  the 
Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna. 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  695 

"  3/oji  ami"  [my  dear],  said  she  cautiously,  so  as  not  to 
disturb  him ;  and,  picking  up  the  folds  of  her  silk  dress,  in 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment,  calling  Karenin,  not  Aleks6i 
Aleksandrovitch,  but,  "J/cw  ami,  donnez  lui  la  main!  vous 
voyez?"  [Give  him  your  hand!  do  you  see?]  "  Sh-h  !  " 
said  she  to  a  servant,  who  entered  the  parlor  for  the  fourth 
time  with  a  message. 

The  Frenchman  slept,  or  pretended  to  sleep,  his  head  on 
the  back  of  his  arm-chair,  his  hand  resting  on  his  knee,  but 
making  feeble  gestures,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  catch  some- 
thing. Aleksei  Aleksaudroviteh  got  up,  cautiously  stepped 
over  to  the  chair,  and  put  his  hand  into  the  Frenchman's 
hand.  Stepau  Arkadyevitch  also  got  up,  and  opening  his 
eyt's  wide,  and  tayiug  to  decide  whether  he  were  asleep  or 
not,  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  and  felt  his  ideas  growing 
more  and  more  confused. 

"'  Que  la  person ne  qui  est  arrivee  In  derniere,  celle  qui  de- 
'iii'i  iidc.  qu'elle  —  snrte.  Qu'elle  sorte  "  [The  person  who  came 
in  last  —  the  one  who  is  questioning  —  let  him  go  away] ,  mur- 
mured the  Frenchman,  without  opening  his  eyes. 

"Fows  m'excuserez,  mais  vons  voyez — reoenez  vers  dix 
heures,  encore  mieux,  de-main  "  [You  will  excuse  me,  but  you 
understand — come  back  at  ten  o'clock,  or,  still  better,  to- 
morrow] . 

"  Qu'elle  sorte,"  repeated  the  Frenchman  impatiently. 

"  C'est  moi,  n'est  ce  pus  ?  "  [It's  I,  isn't  it?]  asked  Ob- 
lonsky  breathlessly  ;  and  at  an  affirmative  sign,  forgetting 
what  he  was  going  to  ask  Lidia  Ivanovna,  forgetting  his 
sister's  trouble,  he  hastened  out  on  tiptoe,  and  rushed  off 
down  the  street  as  if  he  were  fleeing  from  a  pest-house.  To 
recover  his  mental  equilibrium  he  chatted  and  joked  for  a  long 
time  with  an  izi'o*}n-!iik.  had  the  man  drive  him  to  the  French 
theatre,  and  finished  the  evening  at  a  restaurant,  over  some 
champagne.  In  spite  of  all  his  efforts,  the  memory  of  the 
evening  haunted  him. 

He  came  back  to  his  uncle  Piotr  Oblonsky's,  where  he  was 
staj'ing,  and  found  a  note  from  Betsy,  telling  him  to  come 
and  finish  the  conversation  that  had  been  interrupted  in  the 
morning  ;  at  which  he  made  a  face.  The  sound  of  a  step  on 
the  stair  interrupted  his  meditations,  and  he  came  out  of  his 
room  to  see  who  it  was.  It  was  his  rejuvenated  uncle,  who 
was  so  tipsy  that  he  could  not  get  up  the  stairs  alone.  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch  went  with  him  to  his  room,  and  heard  him  tell 


ANNA   KAKfiNINA. 

the  events  of  the  evening  till  he  fell  asleep.  Stepan  Ar- 
kadyevitch  himself  was  in  such  a  weak  state  of  mind,  that, 
contrary  to  his  custom,  he  did  not  fall  asleep  quickly.  What 
he  had  heard  and  seen  during  the  day  troubled  him.  But 
the  evening  at  the  countess's  passed  all  the  rest  in  strange- 
ness. 

The  next  day  he  received  from  Alekse"i  Aleksandrovitch  a 
flat  refusal  in  the  matter  of  the  divorce,  and  knew  that  this 
decision  was  the  work  of  the  Frenchman,  and  of  the  words 
which  he  had  uttered  during  his  slumber,  real  or  feigned. 


XXIII. 

NOTHING  complicates  the  difficulties  of  life  so  much  as  a 
lack  of  harmony  between  married  people.  When  their  rela- 
tions are  so  indefinite,  nothing  can  be  accomplished  by  either 
husband  or  wife. 

Many  families  stay  for  years  in  some  place  that  is  un- 
pleasant and  inconvenient,  simply  on  account  of  differences, 
—  simply  because  there  is  no  full  agreement  or  harmony. 

The  life  of  Vronsky  and  Anna  at  Moscow  was  insup- 
portable. The  trees  on  the  boulevards  put  forth  their  leaves, 
the  sun  grew  warmer  and  warmer  as  summer  came  on,  and  the 
leaves  began  to  be  coated  with  dust.  Instead  of  going  to 
Vozdvizhenskoe,  as  they  intended,  they  remained  at  Moscow, 
hateful  to  them  both,  simply  because  there  was  lack  of  har- 
mony between  them.  And  yet  no  real  ground  of  misunder- 
standing existed  between  them,  beyond  that  subtile  irritation 
which  led  Anna  to  continual  attempts  at  explanation,  and 
Vronsky  to  oppose  to  her  an  icy  reserve.  From  day  to  day 
the  strain  of  the  situation  increased.  Anna  considered  love 
to  be  the  sole  end  of  her  lover's  life,  and  could  not  understand 
him  from  any  other  point  of  view.  But  this  need  of  loving, 
which  she  knew  to  be  inherent  in  the  count's  nature,  must 
be  centred  on  her  alone,  or  else,  in  her  blind  jealousy,  she 
suspected  him  of  infidelity,  and  with  every  woman.  Some- 
times she  suspected  him  of  low  amours,  which  he  might  enter 
into  as  an  unmarried  man  about  town  :  sometimes  she  dis- 
trusted ladies  in  society,  and  especially  the  young  lady  whom 
he  would  be  likely  to  marry  in  case  he  broke  with  her.  This 
fear  had  been  awakened  in  her  mind  b3T  a  careless  remark  of 
the  count,  who,  in  a  moment  of  confidence  one  day,  blamed 


ANNA  KARtfNINA.  697 

his  mother's  lack  of  tact  in  having  ventured  to  propose  to 
him  to  marry  the  young  Princess  Sorokina. 

This  jealousy  led  Anna  to  la}'  up  a  great  variety  of  accu- 
sations against  him.  And  yet,  after  all,  in  spite  of  the 
painfulness  of  her  position,  she  adored  him.  But  she  con- 
sidered him  responsible  for  their  prolonged  stay  at  Moscow, 
for  the  uncertainty  in  which  she  lived,  for  Alekse'i  Aleksan- 
drovitch's  unreasonableness,  and  for  her  loneliness.  If  he 
loved  her,  he  would  understand  her,  and  pity  her.  He 
wanted  society,  and  so  would  not  go  to  the  country,  as  she 
would  like.  And,  more  than  all,  he  was  responsible  for 
depriving  her  forever  of  her  son. 

Vrousk}-,  for  his  part,  dissatisfied  with  the  false  position 
which  Anna  obstinately  maintained,  charged  her  with  aggra- 
vating still  more  their  difficulties  in  all  wa}-s.  If  there 
came  some  rare  moment  of  tenderness,  Anna  was  not  at  all 
appeased,  seeing  in  it,  on  the  count's  part,  only  the  exas- 
perating assertion  of  a  right. 

It  was  getting  dark.  Vronsky  was  at  a  gentlemen's 
dinner ;  and  Anna,  while  waiting  for  him,  had  taken  refuge 
in  his  library,  where  the  noise  of  the  street  was  less  oppres- 
sive than  in  the  rest  of  the  house.  She  walked  up  and 
down,  going  over  in  memory  their  last  altercation,  and  as- 
tonished to  find  that  so  trivial  a  cause  could  have  led  to 
so  disgraceful  a  scene.  In  speaking  of  Hannah,  Anna's 
English  protegee,  Vronsky  had  ridiculed  girls'  schools,  and 
declared  that  the  natural  sciences  would  be  of  absolutely  no 
use  to  this  child.  Anna  immediately,  applied  the  criticism  to 
her  own  occupations,  and,  in  order  to  pique  Vronsky  in  turn, 
said,  — 

"I  certainly  did  not  count  on  your  sympathy  in  the 
matter,  but  I  should  have  thought  that  the  man  who  loved 
me  might  show  simple  delicacy." 

The  count  grew  red  with  anger,  and  said  something  dis- 
agreeable ;  and  when  she  did  not  know  what  to  reply, 
he,  evidently  intending  to  exasperate  Anna  still  further, 
said.  — 

"  I  confess  I  don't  understand  your  devotion  to  that 
child.  It  annoj-s  me.  I  can  see  in  it  nothing  but  an  affec- 
tation." 

The  remark  was  severe  and  unjust.  It  assailed  Anna's 
laborious  efforts  to  find  something  to  do  which  should  help 
her  sustain  her  difficult  situation. 


698  ANNA  KAEtiNINA. 

"  It  is  very  unfortunate  that  your  opinions  should  be 
always  low  and  material  ones,"  she  had  retorted,  leaving 
the  room. 

The  discussion  was  not  resumed.  But  they  both  felt  that 
it  was  not  forgotten.  All  this  day  he  had  not  been  at  home  ; 
and  she  was  so  lonely  and  wretched,  as  she  thought  of  their 
quarrels,  that  she  resolved  to  forget  every  thing,  and  to  take 
the  blame  on  herself,  so  as  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  at 
any  cost. 

"lam  to  blame;  I  am  irritable;  I  am  absurdly  jealous. 
When  he  has  forgiven  me,  we  will  leave  for  the  country  ; 
and  there  I  shall  be  calmer,"  she  thought. 

' '  Affected  !  ' '  She  suddenly  remembered  the  word  [nena- 
turalno]  which  had  roused  all  her  wrath. 

"I  know  what  he  meant.  He  meant  by  affected  that  I 
did  not  love  my  daughter,  but  loved  a  stranger.  AVhat  does 
he  know  of  the  love  a  child  can  inspire?  Has  he  the  least 
idea  what  I  sacrificed  for  him  in  giving  up  Serozha?  But 
this  desire  to  wound  me  !  No,  he  loves  another  woman  : 
this  cannot  go  on." 

But  stopping  on  the  verge  of  this  fatal  chasm,  she  tried 
to  get  out  of  the  circle  of  thoughts  that  crowded  upon  her. 
She  said,  "Yes,  he  is  true;  he  is  the  soul  of  honor;  he 
loves  me.  I  love  him  :  in  a  day  or  two  we  shall  be  at  peace. 
What  is  necessary?  Calmness,  gentleness.  Da!  now, 
when  he  comes,  I  will  tell  him  that  I  was  to  blame  ;  and  we 
will  go  off."  And,  in  order  not  to  think  any  more,  she 
gave  orders  to  bring  down  her  trunks,  to  begin  preparations 
for  departure. 

At  ten  o'clock  Vronsky  came  in. 


XXIV. 

"  WAS  your  dinner  a  success?  "  asked  Anna,  going  up  to 
the  count  with  a  conciliatory  manner. 

"As  such  things  usually  are,"  answered  he,  noticing  at 
once  by  her  face  that  she  was  in  one  of  her  best  moods. 
"  What  do  I  see?  This  is  first-rate,"  added  he,  pointing  to 
the  trunks. 

"  Yes,  we  must  go.  I  went  out  to  walk  to-day,  and  it  was 
so  good  that  I  longed  to  get  back  to  the  country.  There's 
nothing  to  keep  you  here,  is  there?  " 


ANNA  KAEfiNINA.  699 

"  I  want  nothing  better.  Have  the  tea  brought  while  I 
change  my  coat.  I'll  come  back  in  a  moment." 

The  approval  of  the  plan  for  departure  was  given  in  a 
tone  of  exasperating  superiority,  as  if  he  had  been  speaking 
to  a  spoiled  child,  whose  whims  he  was  excusing.  Anna's 
pugnacity  was  instantly  aroused.  Why  should  she  humble 
herself  before  such  arrogance  ?  She  restrained  herself,  how- 
ever ;  and  when  he  came  in  she  told  him  calmly  the  incidents 
of  the  day,  and  her  plans  for  departure. 

"  It  came  over  me  like  an  inspiration,"  said  she,  —  "  why 
wait  here  for  the  divorce?  Will  it  not  be  all  the  same  when 
we  are  in  the  country?  I  cannot  wait  longer.  I  want  to 
stop  hoping  about  the  divorce.  I  don't  want  to  hear  any 
thing  more  about  it.  I  think  it  won't  have  any  more  effect 
on  my  life.  Don't  you  agree  with  me?  " 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  said  he,  looking  with  disquietude  at  Anna's 
excited  face. 

"Come,  tell  me  what  you  did:  who  were  there?"  said 
she,  after  a  moment's  silence. 

"  The  dinner  was  very  good,"  answered  the  count ;  and  he 
named  over  to  her  those  who  were  there.  "  And  we  had  a 
boat-race,  and  it  was  all  very  jolly.  But  in  Moscow  we  are 
always  absurd.  Some  woman,  the  swimming-teacher  of  the 
Queen  of  Sweden,  gave  us  an  exhibition  of  her  art. 

"What!  Did  she  swim  for  you?"  demanded  Anna, 
frowning. 

"  Yes,  in  an  ugly  red  costume  de  natation.  She  was  old 
and  hideous.  What  day  do  we  go?  " 

"  What  an  inane  fantasia!  Was  there  any  thing  extraor- 
dinary about  her  method  of  swimming?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  tell  you  it  was  simply  absurd.  So  you 
have  decided  on  going?" 

Anna  tossed  her  head  as  if  to  get  rid  of  a  haunting 
thought. 

"  When  shall  we  go?  The  sooner  the  better.  I  sha'n't  be 
ready  by  to-morrow,  but  the  day  after." 

"Yes  —  no  —  wait!  Da}' after  to-morrow  is  Sunday.  I 
shall  have  to  go  to  maman."  Vronsky  was  disturbed  :  as  he 
mentioned  his  mother's  name,  he  saw  Anna's  eyes  fixed  with 
a  look  of  suspicion  on  him,  and  this  disturbance  increased 
her  distrust.  She  forgot  the  Queen  of  Sweden's  swimming- 
teacher  in  her  alarm  about  the  Princess  Sorokina,  who  lived 
in  the  suburbs  of  Moscow  with  the  old  countess. 


700  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

"  Can't  you  go  there  to-morrow?  " 

"  Da!  That's  impossible.  There  is  some  business  that  I 
must  attend  to,  —  a  power  of  attorney  ;  and  the  money  will 
not  be  ready  to-morrow." 

"  If  that  is  so,  we  won't  go  at  all." 

"Dal    Why  not?" 

"  Sunday  or  never  !  " 

"Why  not?"  cried  Vronsky  in  astonishment.  "  There's 
no  sense  in  that." 

"  Not  for  you,  because  you  never  take  me  into  account  at 
all.  You  can't  understand  what  I  suffer  here.  The  only 
thing  that  interests  me  here  —  Hannah.  You  say  that  it  is 
hypocrisy.  You  said  last  evening  that  I  did  not  love  my 
daughter,  but  that  I  pretended  to  love  this  English  girl,  that 
this  was  unnatural.  I  should  like  to  know  what  can  be 
natural  in  the  life  I  lead?  " 

Instantly  she  came  to  herself,  and  was  frightened  because 
she  had  broken  her  vow.  But,  though  she  knew  that  she  was 
dashing  to  destruction,  she  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of 
proving  to  him  that  he  was  in  the  wrong. 

"  I  never  said  that :  I  said  that  this  sudden  show  of  ten- 
derness for  her  didn't  please  me." 

"  Why  do  you,  wiio  boast  of  being  straightforward,  tell 
me  a  lie?  " 

"  I  never  boast,  and  I  never  tell  lies,"  said  he,  repressing 
the  anger  which  was  rising  within  him;  "and  I  am  very 
sorry  if  you  do  not  respect  "  — 

"Respect!  That  was  invented  to  cover  up  the  lack  of 
love.  If  you  don't  love  me  any  more,  it  would  be  better 
and  more  honorable  to  say  so." 

"  No  !  this  is  becoming  intolerable,"  cried  the  count,  sud- 
denly leaping  from  his  chair,  and  turning  upon  Anna.  "Why 
.do  you  try  my  patience  so?  "  he  continued,  holding  back  the 
bitter  words  that  were  ready  to  escape  him.  "It  has  its  limits.." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  she  demanded,  looking 
with  terror  at  the  unconcealed  expression  of  hate  on  his 
whole  face,  and  especially  in  his  fierce,  cruel  eyes. 

"  I  mean  " —  he  began.     Then  he  stopped. 

"  I  have  a  right  to  demand  what  you  claim  from  me." 

"  What  can  I  claim?  I  can  only  claim  that  you  do  not 
abandon  me,  as  you  intend  to  do,"  she  said,  comprehending 
all  that  he  left  unsaid.  "  Every  thing  else  is  secondary.  I 
must  be  loved  ;  but  love  is  gone.  All  is  over." 


ANNA   KAB&N1NA.  701 

She  turned  towards  the  door. 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  "  said  Vronsky,  still  frowning,  but  holding 
her  by  the  arm.  "  What  is  the  trouble  between  us?  I  say 
that  it  is  necessary  to  postpone  our  starting  for  three  days, 
and  you  answer  by  calling  me  a  liar  and  a  scoundrel." 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  say  that  a  man  who  blames  me  because  he 
has  sacrificed  every  thing  for  me,"  said  she,  alluding  to  a 
former  quarrel,  "is  worse  than  a  scoundrel:  he  is  a  man 
without  heart." 

"  That  settles  it :  my  patience  is  at  an  end,"  cried  Vronsky, 
quickly  dropping  her  hand. 

"  He  hates  me :  that  is  certain,"  she  thought,  as  she  went 
from  the  room  in  silence  with  tottering  steps.  "  He  loves 
some  one  else :  that  is  more  certain  still, ' '  she  said  to  herself 
as  she  reached  her  room.  "  I  must  be  loved,  but  love  is  gone. 
All  is  over."  She  repeated  the  words  that  she  had  said, — 
"  I  must  put  an  end  to  it." 

"  But  how?  "  she  asked  herself,  sinking  into  a  chair  before 
her  mirror. 

The  most  contradictory  thoughts  crowded  upon  her. 
Where  should  she  go  ?  ( To  her  aunt,  who  had  brought  her 
up?  To  Dolly?  or  simply  go  abroad  alone  by  herself? 
Would  the  rupture  be  final?  What  was  he  doing  in  his 
study?  How  would  Aleksel  Aleksandrovitch  look  upon  it? 
and  what  would  her  former  acquaintances  in  Petersburg  say  ? 
A  vague  idea  came  into  her  mind,  and  awakened  some  inter- 
est, but  she  could  not  express  it.  She  recalled  a  phrase 
which  she  had  used  to  her  husband  after  her  illness,  —  "  Why 
didn't  I  die?  "  and  immediately  the  words  awoke  the  feeling 
which  they  had  then  expressed.  "•  Death,  yes,  that  is  the 
only  way  of  escape.  My  terrible  shame,  and  the  dishonor 
which  I  have  brought  on  Aleks6i  Aleksandrovitch,  Serozha, 
all  will  be  wiped  away  by  my  death.  He  will  repent  for  me 
then  ;  he  will  be  sorry,  will  love  me,  he  will  weep  for  me." 
A  smile  of  pity  for  herself  came  over  her  face  as  she  me- 
chanically took  off  the  rings  from  her  fingers,  and  imagined 
how  he  would  feel  after  she  was  dead.  Approaching  steps  — 
his  steps  —  caught  her  ears.  She  affected  to  be  busily  engaged 
in  taking  off  her  rings,  and  did  not  turn  her  head. 

He  came  to  her,  and,  taking  her  hand,  said  tenderly, 
"  Anna,  we  will  go  day  after  to-morrow  if  you  wish.  I  am 
ready  for  any  thing. 

"  Well?  "  said  he,  waiting. 


702  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

She  did  not  speak. 

"  What  do  you  say?  "  he  asked. 

"You  yourself  know" — said  she;  and  then,  unable  to 
control  herself  longer,  she  burst  into  tears.  "  Leave  me, 
leave  me,"  she  murmured  through  her  sobs.  "I  am  going 
away  to-morrow  —  I  will  do  more.  What  am  I?  A  lost 
woman,  a  millstone  about  your  neck.  I  don't  want  to  tor- 
ment you.  I  will  set  you  free.  You  do  not  love  me :  you 
love  another." 

Vronsky  begged  her  to  be  calm.  He  swore  there  was  not 
the  slightest  ground  for  her  jealousy,  and  that  he  loved  her, 
and  always  would  love  her  ;  that  he  loved  her  more  than  ever. 

"Anna,  why  torture  ourselves  so?  "  he  asked,  as  he  kissed 
her  hand.  His  face  expressed  the  deepest  tenderness  ;  and 
it  seemed  to  her  that  her  ears  caught  the  sound  of  tears  in 
his  voice,  and  that  she  felt  their  moisture  on  her  hand.  Pass- 
ing suddenly  from  jealousy  to  the  most  passionate  tenderness, 
she  covered  his  head,  his  neck,  his  hands,  with  kisses. 


XXV. 

FEELING  that  their  reconciliation  was  complete,  Anna  the 
next  morning  eagerly  made  her  preparations  for  departure. 
The  day  of  departure  was  not  definitely  fixed  ;  but,  feeling 
sure  that  they  should  go  in  a  day  or  two,  Anna  was  busy  in 
her  room  taking  some  things  from  an  open  trunk,  when 
Vronsky  entered,  dressed  to  go  out,  notwithstanding  the 
early  hour. 

"I  am  going  now  to  ma  man.  Perhaps  she  can  get  me  the 
money  through  Yegerof,  and  then  I  shall  be  read}7  to  go  to- 
morrow," he  said. 

His  allusion  to  this  visit  disturbed  Anna's  good-humor. 

"  No  :  I  shall  not  be  ready  myself  ;  "  and  immediately  she 
thought,  "  Therefore  it  ivas  possible  to  arrange  it  so  as  to 
do  as  I  wished." 

"  No :  do  just  as  you  intended  to.  And  now  go  to  the 
dining-room,  and  I  will  join  you  as  soon  as  I  have  taken  out 
these  cumbersome  things,"  she  added,  piling  some  more 
trumpery  into  Annushka's  arms.  When  she  entered  the 
dining-room,  Vronsky  was  eating  a  beefsteak. 

"  You  can't  realize  how  odious  these  apartments  have  lie- 
come  to  me,"  she  said  as  she  sat  down  by  him.  "  Nothing  is 


ANNA  KARfiSlNA.  703 

more  detestable  than  these  chambres  garnies.  There  is  no 
individuality  in  them,  no  soul.  The  clock,  the  curtains,  the 
paper — koshmar  [nightmare]  !  Vozdvizheuskoe  seems  to  me 
like  the  promised  land.  It  is  decided  that  we  go  to-morrow, 
is  it?"  she  added  in  a  joyous  tone.  But  suddenly  her  face 
lengthened.  Vronsky's  valet  came  in,  and  asked  him  to  sign 
a  receipt  for  a  despatch  from  Petersburg.  Still,  there  was 
nothing  remarkable  in  Vronsky's  receiving  a  telegram. 

"  To-morrow,  without  fail :  I  am  all  ready." 

"  From  whom  is  the  despatch  ? ' '  she  asked,  not  hearing  him. 

"From  Stiva,"  answered  the  count  quietly. 

"  Why  don't  you  show  it  to  me?  What  secret  can  there 
be  between  Stiva  and  me?  " 

Vronsky  called  the  valet  back,  and  ordered  him  to  bring 
in  the  telegram. 

"  I  did  not  care  to  show  it,  because  Stiva  has  a  passion  for 
telegraphing.  Why  need  he  send  me  a  despatch  to  tell  me 
that  nothing  was  decided?" 

"  About  the  divorce?  " 

"  Yes.  He  maintains  that  he  cannot  get  a  definite  answer. 
Da,  vot!  See  for  yourself." 

Anna  took  the  despatch  with  a  trembling  hand.  It  read 
as  Vronsky  had  told  her.  At  the  end  it  said,  "Little  hope  ; 
but  I  shall  do  every  thing  possible  and  impossible." 

"I  told  you  yesterday  that  it  was  absolutely  immaterial 
to  me  when  I  received  the  divorce,  or  whether  I  get  it  at  all : 
so  it  is  perfectly  useless  to  hide  any  thing  from  me.  —  Sup- 
pose he  hides  from  me  in  the  same  way  his  correspondence 
with  women,"  thought  she. 

••Yashvin  wanted  to  come  this  morning  with  one  of  his 
friends,"  said  Vrousky.  "It  seems  that  he  has  been  gam- 
bling again,  and  has  won  about  sixty  thousand  rubles." 

••  Xo,"  said  she,  vexed  because  he  by  this  change  in  sub- 
ject so  evidently  tried  to  insinuate  that  she  was  vexed. 
"  Why  do  you  think  that  this  news  interests  me  so  much 
that  you  must  hide  it  from  me?  I  told  you  that  I  did  not 
want  to  think  about  it,  and  I  should  wish  that  you  had  as 
little  interest  in  it  as  I." 

"  It  interests  me  because  I  like  clearness." 

"  Clearness  !  But  in  love,  not  in  mere  outside  show,"  she 
said,  getting  more  and  more  angr}-,  not  at  his  words,  but  at 
the  tone  of  cool  calmness  in  which  he  spoke.  "Why  do  you 
want  a  divorce?" 


704  ANNA  KAR£NINA. 

"  Bozlie  mo'i!  Always  '  love,'  "  thought  Vronsky,  with  a 
grimace.  "You  know  very  well  why  :  it  is  for  your  sake 
and  the  children's." 

"  There  will  not  be  any  more  children." 

"  So  much  the  worse  !     I  am  sorry." 

"  You  feel  the  need  of  it,  because  of  the  children ;  but 
don't  you  have  some  thought  of  me?"  said  she,  forgetting 
that  he  had  just  said  "  for  your  sake  and  the  children's." 

The  question  of  the  possibility  of  having  children  had 
been  long  vexatious  and  trying  to  her.  She  took  his  desire 
to  have  children  as  a  proof  of  indifference  towards  her 
beauty. 

"Ach!  I  said  for  'your  sake, — more  than  all  for  your 
sake  ;  for  I  am  convinced  that  your  irritability  comes  largely 
from  the  uncertainty  of  your  position,"  he  answered,  scowl- 
ing with  annoyance. 

"  That  is  not  the  cause ;  and  I  do  not  understand  how  my 
irritability,  as  you  call  it,  can  be  caused  by  the  fact  that  I 
have  come  absolutely  into  your  power,"  she  said,  seeing 
with  terror,  in  Vronsky's  eyes,  a  cold  and  cruel  judge  con- 
demning her.  "  How  is  my  position  indefinite?  It  seems 
to  me  the  contrary." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  are  not  willing  to  understand,"  he 
replied,  obstinatel}"  determined  to  express  his  thought.  "  Its 
uncertainty  comes  from  this,  —  that  you  think  that  I  am 
free." 

"  Oh  !  as  far  as  that  goes,  you  can  be  perfectly  easy,"  she 
said,  turning  from  him,  and  beginning  to  drink  her  coffee. 
She  took  the  cup,  raising  her  little  finger,  and  put  it  to  her 
lips  ;  and  as  she  drank  she  looked  at  him,  and  by  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face  saw  clearly  that  her  motions  and  the 
sounds  that  she  made  in  swallowing  wrought  on  Vronsky's 
nerves. 

"It  is  absolutely  indifferent  to  me  what  your  mother 
thinks,  and  how  she  intends  to  marry  you  off,"  said  she, 
putting  down  the  cup  with  trembling  hand. 

"  We  will  not  talk  of  her." 

"  Yes  we  will  too :  and  I  assure  you  that  a  heartless 
woman,  whether  young  or  old,  —  your  mother  or  anybody 
else,  —  does  not  interest  me  ;  and  I  don't  want  to  know 
her." 

"  Anna,  I  beg  you  not  to  speak  disrespectfully  of  my 
mother." 


ANNA  KAEfiNINA.  705 

"  A  woman  who  has  no  conception  of  what  the  honor  of 
her  son  consists  in,  has  no  heart." 

"  I  repeat  my  request  that  you  will  not  speak  of  my 
mother  disrespectfully,"  reiterated  the  count,  raising  his 
voice,  and  looking  severely  at  Anna. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  looked  attentively  at  his  face  and 
his  hands,  and  recalled  with  all  its  details  the  scene  of  the 
evening  before,  and  his  passionate  caresses.  "  Just  such 
caresses  he  has  lavished,  and  will  still  continue  to  lavish,  on 
other  women,"  she  thought. 

"  You  don't  love  your  mother.  Those  are  simply  words, 
words,  words  !  "  she  said,  looking  at  him  with  angry  eyes. 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  it  is  necessary  "  — 

"It  is  necessary  to  decide  ;  and  I  have  decided,"  said 
she,  preparing  to  leave  the  room,  when  the  door  opened,  and 
Yashvin  entered. 

She  stopped  immediately,  and  bade  him  good-morning. 

Why,  when  her  soul  was  full  of  bitterness ;  when  she  felt 
that  she  was  at  the  turning-point  of  her  life,  which  might 
take  a  terrible  direction,  —  why,  at  th'is  moment,  she  had  to 
dissimulate  before  a  stranger,  who  sooner  or  later  would 
know  all,  she  could  not  tell ;  but,  calming  the  inner  tumult 
of  her  feelings,  she  sat  down  again,  and  began  to  talk  with 
the  guest. 

"JVM  /  how  are  your  affairs?  Have  they  paid  you  your 
debt?  "  she  asked. 

"  Da!  not  yet.  I  shall  probably  get  a  part  of  it  Wednes- 
day," said  Yashvin  awkwardly;  for  he  perceived  that  he 
had  come  in  at  an  unfortunate  moment.  "When  do  you 
leave?" 

"  Da}'  after  to-morrow,  I  think,"  said  Vronsky. 

"  You  have  taken  long  to  make  up  your  minds." 

"But  now  it  is  all  decided,"  said  Anna,  looking  straight 
into  Vronsky's  eyes  with  a  look  that  told  him  how  impossible 
it  was  to  think  of  reconciliation. 

"  Do  you  never  pity  your  unfortunate  adversaries?  "  con- 
tinued Anna,  speaking  to  the  gambler. 

"  That's  a  question  I  have  never  asked  myself,  Anna 
Arkadyevna.  My  whole  fortune  is  here,"  said  he,  pointing 
to  his  pocket.  "  Now  I  am  a  rich  man,  but  I  may  come  out 
of  the  club  this  evening  a  beggar.  Whoever  plays  with  me 
would  gladly  leave  me  without  a  shirt,  and  I  him.  Nul  We 
engage  in  war,  and  that  makes  the  fun." 


706  ANNA   KAEtiNINA. 

"JVw/  but  if  3'ou  were  married,  what  would  your  wife 
say?" 

Yashvin  laughed.  "  But  I  am  not  married,  and  I  don't 
expect  to  marry." 

"  And  haven't  you  ever  been  in  love?  " 

"  O  Lord  !  plenty  of  times.  Only  remember  one  may  sit 
down  to  cards,  but  he  must  be  able  to  get  up  when  the  time 
comes  for  a  rendezvous;  and  I  get  interested  in  love,  but  in 
such  a  way  that  I  need  not  be  late  to  play  my  hand  in  the 
evening." 

A  horse-jockey  in  the  mean  while  came  to  see  about  buy- 
ing a  horse,  and  Anna  left  the  dining-room. 

Before  he  left  the  house,  Vrousky  went  to  her  room  to  look 
for  something  on  the  table.  She  pretended  not  to  see  him  ; 
but  then,  being  ashamed  of  this  dissimulation,  she  looked 
him  straight  in  the  face,  and  asked  him.  coolly  in  French, 
'•  What  do  you  want?  " 

"The  original  certificate  of  the  horse  I've  just  sold,"  an- 
swered Vronsky  in  a  tone  which  distinctly  meant  these  words  : 
"  I  have  not  time  to  begin  explanations  which  will  lead  to 
nothing." 

"I'm  not  to  blame,"  thought  he  :  "  tant  pis  pour  elle  [so 
much  the  worse  for  her]  if  she  wants  to  punish  herself." 

However,  as  he  left  the  room  he  thought  she  said  some- 
thing to  him,  and  his  heart  was  suddenly  touched  with  com- 
passion for  her.  "  AVhat  is  it,  Anna?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  said  nothing,"  she  answered  coldly  and  calmly. 

"Nothing!  tant  pis,"  he  said  again  to  himself.  On  his 
way  out,  as  he  passed  a  mirror,  he  caught  sight  in  it  of  her 
pale  face  and  trembling  lips.  He  was  tempted  to  go  back  and 
say  some  comforting  words  to  her,  but  he  was  already  too 
far  on  his  way.  He  passed  the  entire  day  outside  the  house  ; 
and  when  he  came  home  the  maid  informed  him  that  Anna 
Arkadyevna  had  the  headache,  and  begged  not  to  be  dis- 
turbed. 

XXVI. 

NEVER  before  had  a  day  gone  by  without  bringing  a  recon- 
ciliation. This  was  not  a  mere  quarrel :  it  was  apparently  a 
permanent  coldness.  How  was  it  possible  for  him  to  look  at 
her  as  he  had  done  when  he  came  into  her  room  after  his 
document  ?  how  could  he  look  at  her,  and  see  that  her  heart 


ANNA   KARtiXINA.  707 

was  full  of  despair,  and  then  go  out  with  a  calm,  indifferent 
face  ?  He  had  not  only  grown  cold  to  her,  but  he  hated  her, 
because  he  loved  some  other  woman.  This  was  clear. 

All  the  cruel  words  which  had  ever  fallen  from  the  count's 
lips  came  back  to  Anna's  mind  ;  and  she  thought  of  what  he 
might  say  to  her,  and  she  grew  more  and  more  indignant. 

"  I  will  not  keep  3'ou,"  she  imagined  him  saying.  "  You 
can  go  when  you  please.  As  you  don't  care  to  be  divorced 
from  your  husband,  you  probably  intend  to  go  back  to  him. 
If  you  want  money,  I  will  give  it  to  you.  How  many  rubles 
do  you  want?" 

All  these  insulting  words  which  the  cruel  man  might  say 
were  said  merely  in  her  imagination,  but  she  could  not  for- 
give him  any  more  than  if  he  had  really  said  them. 

"  But  did  he  not  swear  to  me  only  yesterda}'  that  he  loved 
me?  Isn't  he  a  sincere  and  honest  man?  "  she  said  to  her- 
self a  moment  afterwards.  "  Haven't  I  been  hi  despair  sev- 
eral times  before,  all  for  nothing?  " 

She  passed  the  entire  day,  except  two  hours  during  which 
she  made  a  visit  to  her  proteges,  the  Wilsons,  in  alternate 
doubt  and  hope.  She  had  been  waiting  all  day  ;  and  late  in 
the  evening  she  went  to  her  room,  telling  Auuushka  to  say 
that  she  had  the  headache. 

"  If  he  comes  in  spite  of  that,  it  will  show  that  he  loves 
me  still :  if  not.  it  is  over,  and  I  shall  make  up  my  mind 
what  there  is  for  me  to  do." 

When  he  returned,  she  heard  his^carriage-wheels  on  the 
pavement,  his  ring  and  his  steps,  and  his  colloquy  with  An- 
uushka ;  then  his  steps  passed  by  ;  he  went  into  his  library, 
and  Anna  knew  that  her  lot  was  cast.  Death  presented 
itself  before  her  clearly  and  vividly  as  the  only  way  to 
punish  Vronsky,  to  gain  the  victory  over  him,  and  to  revive 
liis  love  for  her. 

Now  every  thing  was  a  matter  of  indifference  —  whether 
they  went  to  the  country  or  not,  whether  she  procured  the 
divorce  or  not  —  it  was  unnecessary  :  the  essential  thing  was 
to  punish  him. 

When  she  poured  out  her  usual  dose  of  opium,  and  it  came 
over  her  that  if  she  swallowed  all  that  was  in  the  vial  she 
would  die,*it  seemed  so  easy  and  simple  that  she  felt  a  real 
joy  in  imagining  how  he  would  mourn,  repent,  and  love  her 
when  it  was  too  late.  As  she  lay  on  her  bed  with  open  eyes, 
and  watched  the  flickering  candle-light  on  the  moulded  cor- 


708  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

nice  of  the  ceiling  mingle  with  the  shadow  of  the  screen  which 
divided  the  room,  she  vividly  pictured  to  herself  how  he  would 
think  when  she  was  no  more,  when  she  was  only  a  memory. 
"How  could  I  speak  to  her  such  cruel  words?"  he  would 
say  to  himself.  "  How  could  I  leave  her  without  one  loving 
word  ?  and  now  she  is  gone  :  she  has  left  us  forever  !  She 
is  there" —  Suddenly  the  shadow  of  the  screen  seemed  to 
waver  and  cover  the  whole  ceiling :  the  other  shadows  from 
all  sides  joined  in  with  it,  trembling,  and  all  became  one 
absolute  obscurit}'. 

"Death!"  thought  she;  and  such  a  great  terror  seized 
her  whole  being,  that  for  a  long  time  she  did  not  know  where 
she  was  ;  her  trembling  hands  could  not  find  the  matches,  in 
order  to  light  another  candle  in  place  of  the  one  that  had 
burned  down  and  gone  out.  When  it  dawned  on  her  that 
she  was  still  alive,  tears  of  joy  poured  down  her  cheeks. 

"No,  no!  any  thing  —  only  to  live!  I  love  him,  and  he 
loves  me:  these  dreadful  days  will  go  by !  "  and  to  escape 
her  terror  she  fled  to  Vrousky's  library. 

He  was  in  his  library  peacefully  sleeping.  She  went  close 
to  him,  and,  holding  the  candle  above  his  face,  looked 
at  him  a  long  time.  Now,  as  he  slept,  she  felt  such  love 
for  him,  that  she  wept  for  tenderness  ;  but  she  knew,  that, 
if  she  woke  him,  he  would  look  at  her  coldly,  and  that  she 
would  not  be  able  to  resist  accusing  him,  and  justifying  her- 
self. She  went  back  to  her  room,  and  swallowed  a  second 
dose  of  opium,  which  threw  her  into  a  heavy  sleep,  without 
taking  from  her  the  consciousness  of  her  misery. 

Towards  morning  she  had  the  frightful  nightmare  which 
she  had  experienced  several  times  before.  She  saw  a  little 
old  man,  with  unkempt  beard,  stirring  something  in  a  gourd, 
and  muttering  unintelligible  French  words  ;  and,  as  always 
when  she  had  this  nightmare,  she  felt  that  the  little  old 
man  shook  it  over  her  head  without  noticing  her ;  and 
therein  lay  the  horror  of  the  dream.  She  awoke  in  a  cold 
perspiration. 

When  she  got  up,  the  events  of  the  day  before  seemed 
enveloped  in  mist. 

"There  was  a  quarrel.  It  had  happened  several  times  be- 
fore. I  said  I  had  a  headache,  and  he  didn't  cOme  to  see 
me.  That  is  all.  To-morrow  we  will  go  away.  I  must 
see  him,  and  get  ready  for  our  departure,"  she  said  to 
herself ;  and  knowing  that  he  was  in  his  library,  she  started 


ANNA   KABfiNINA.  709 

to  go  to  him.  But  in  crossing  the  parlor,  her  attention  was 
arrested  by  the  sound  of  a  carriage  stopping,  and  she  looked 
out  of  the  window.  It  was  a  conp6.  A  young  girl  in  a 
light  hat  was  stepping  from  the  carriage,  and  giving  or- 
ders to  the  footman,  who  was  at  the  door-bell.  After  a 
colloquy  in  the  vestibule,  some  one  came  up-stairs,  and  Anna 
heard  Vronsky's  steps  in  the  drawing-room.  Then  he  ran 
swiftly  down-stairs.  Anna  looked  out  again,  and  saw  him 
go  out  to  the  door-steps  bare-headed,  and  approach  the  car- 
riage. The  young  girl  in  the  lilac-colored  hat  handed  him  a 
package.  Vronsky  smiled  as  he  spoke  to  her.  The  coup& 
drove  away,  and  Vronsky  came  quickly  up-stairs. 

This  little  scene  suddenly  cleared  away  the  mist  which 
weighed  upon  Anna's  soul,  and  the  feelings  of  yesterday 
tore  her  heart  more  cruelly  than  ever.  She  now  could  not 
understand  how  she  could  have  so  far  debased  herself  as  to 
stay  one  day  more  under  his  roof.  She  went  into  the  count's 
library,  to  acquaint  him  with  the  resolution  that  she  had 
taken. 

"  The  Princess  Sorokina  and  her  daughter  have  brought 
me  the  money  and  papers  from  maman.  I  could  not  get 
them  yesterday.  How  is  your  headache?  better?"  he  said 
quietly,  not  seeming  to  notice  the  gloomy  and  tragic  expres- 
sion of  Anna's  face. 

She  did  not  reply  ;  but,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
she  looked  fixedly  at  him.  He  glanced  at  her,  his  brows 
contracted,  and  he  continued  to  read  his  letter.  Without 
speaking,  Anna  turned  slowly  about,  and  left  the  room  He 
might  yet  detain  her ;  but  he  let  her  pass  the  threshold,  and 
the  only  sound  heard  was  the  rustling  of  the  sheet  of  paper. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  exclaimed,  just  as  she  was  disappear- 
ing, "  it  is  really  decided  that  we  go  to-moirow?  " 

"You,  but  not  I,"  answered  she. 

"Anna,  this  kind  of  life  is  impossible." 

"You,  not  I,"  she  repeated  again. 

"  It's  no  longer  tolerable  !  " 

"You  —  you  will  be  sorry  for  this,"  said  she;  and  she 
went  out. 

Vronsky  was  frightened  at  the  despairing  tone  with  which 
she  spoke  those  last  words,  and  his  first  impulse  was  to  fol- 
low her ;  but  he  reflected,  seated  himself,  and,  irritated  by 
this  inappropriate  threat,  he  muttered  between  his  teeth,  — 
"  I  have  tried  every  means :  there's  nothing  left  but  indiffer- 


710  ANNA   KAHtiNINA. 

ence  ;  "  and  he  finally  put  on  his  coat  to  go  to  his  mother's, 
to  have  her  sign  a  deed. 

Anna  heard  the  sound  of  his  steps  in  his  library  and  the 
dining-room.  He  stopped  in  the  drawing-room.  But  he 
did  not  come  to  her :  he  only  gave  some  directions  about 
the  horse  that  he  had  just  sold.  She  heard  the  carriage  drive 
up,  and  the  door  open.  Some  one  hurried  up-stairs.  She  ran 
to  the  window,  and  saw  Vronsky  take  from  his  valet's  hands 
a  pair  of  forgotten  gloves,  then  touch  the  coachman's  back, 
and  say  some  words  to  him  ;  and  then,  without  glancing  at 
the  window,  he  sat  down,  as -usual,  in  the  carriage,  crossing 
one  leg  over  the  other.  And  he  turned  the  corner,  and 
disappeared  from  Anna's  sight. 


XXVII. 

"He  is  gone.  It's  all  over,"  said  she  to  herself,  as  she 
stood  at  the  window  ;  and  the  same  cold  horror  which  she 
felt  in  the  night  at  the  dying  candle  and  the  nightmare  seized 
her  now.  "  No,  this  cannot  be,"  she  cried.  She  was  afraid 
to  stay  alone.  She  rang  the  bell  violently,  and,  without 
waiting,  went  to  meet  the  servant. 

"  Find  out  where  the  count  has  gone." 

The  man  replied  that  he  had  gone  to  the  stables.  "He 
left  word  that  the  carriage  would  return  immediately  if  you 
wished  to  go  out." 

"•  Very  well.  I  am  going  to  write  a  note,  which  you  will 
send  by  Mikhail  to  the  stables.  Hay,e  him  hurry." 

She  sat  down,  and  wrote,  — 

"I  am  to  blame.  Come  back.  We  must  explain  things.  For 
Heaven's  sake,  come!  I  am  frightened." 

She  sealed  the  note,  and  gave  it  to  the  servant;  and,  in 
her  fear  of  being  alone,  she  went  to  see  her  little  girl. 

"  He  is  not  the  same  as  he  was.  Where  are  his  blue  eyes, 
and  his  pretty,  timid  smile?  "  was  her  first  thought  when  she 
saw  the  beautiful,  black-eyed  child,  instead  of  Serozha,  whom, 
in  the  confusion  of  her  thoughts,  she  had  expected  to  see. 

The  little  one  was  seated  at  the  table,  noisily  tapping  on 
it  with  a  glass  stopper.  She  looked  at  her  mother  with  her 
two  dark,  wine-colored  eyes.  Answering  the  English  nurse 
that  she  was  well,  and  expected  to  go  to  the  country  the  next 


ANNA   KARtiXINA.  711 

day,  she  stopped  over  in  front  of  the  little  one,  and  put 
the  stopper  back  into  the  carafe.  The  motion  of  the  child's 
brows  and  her  heart}'  laugh  recalled  Vronsky  so  vividly,  that 
Anna,  choking  down  her  sobs,  rose  suddenly,  and  hurried 
from  the  room. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  all  is  over?  No,  it  cannot  be,"  thought 
she.  "He  will  return.  But  how  can  he  explain  that  smile 
of  his,  and  his  animation,  after  what  he  said?  I  shall  be- 
lieve whatever  he  says :  otherwise  there  is  only  one  remedy 
that  I  see,  and  that  I  do  not  want." 

She  looked  at  her  watch.     Twelve  minutes  went  by. 

"He  has  received  my  note,  and  must  come  back  in  ten 
minutes.  And  if  he  shouldn't  come  back?  That's  impossi- 
ble. He  must  not  find  me  with  red  eyes  :  I'll  go  and  bathe 
my  face.  Z>a,  da!  Have  I  brushed  my  hair  yet?"  She 
could  not  remember.  She  put  her  hands  to  her  head.  "Yes, 
I  brushed  my  hair,  but  I  really  don't  remember  when  it  was." 
She  actually  did  not  believe  that  her  hands  told  her  truly, 
and  she  went  to  the  pier-glass  to  see.  Her  hair  was  properly 
arranged,  but  she  could  not  remember  any  thing  about  it. 

••  Who  is  that?  "  she  asked  herself,  as  she  caught  sight  of 
a  glowing  face  and  strangely  brilliant  eyes  gazing  at  her 
from  the  mirror.  "  Yes,  it  is  I."  And  she  suddenly  seemed 
to  feel  his  kisses  ;  and  she  shivered,  and  shrugged  her  shoul- 
ders. Then  she  put  her  hand  to  her  lips,  and  kissed  it.  "It 
must  be  that  I  am  going  crazy  ;  "  and  she  fled  to  her  room, 
where  Anuushka  was  arranging  her  dresses. 

"  Annushka,"  she  said,  as  she  stood  before  the  maid,  not 
knowing  what  to  say. 

"  Will  you  go  to  Darya  Aleksandrovua's  ?  "  said  the  maid, 
for  the  sake  of  suggesting  something. 

"  To  Darya  Aleksandrovna's?  Yes,  I  will  go  there.  Fif- 
teen minutes  to  go,  fifteen  to  come  back.  He  ought  to  be 
here."  She  looked  at  her  watch.  "  Oh  !  how  could  he  leave 
me  in  such  a  condition?  How  can  he  live,  and  not  be  at 
peace  with  me?  "  She  went  to  the  window,  and  looked  out 
on  the  street :  perhaps  she  had  made  a  mistake  in  calculating, 
and  she  began  over  again  to  count  the  minutes  since  he  left. 

Just  as  she  was  about  going  to  consult  the  great  clock, 
a  carriage  stopped  before  the  door.  It  was  the  count's 
carriage  ;  but  no  one  came  up-stairs,  and  she  heard  voices  in 
the  vestibule.  It  was  the  messenger  who  came  back  in  the 
carriage.  She  hurried  dowu  to  him. 


712  ANNA   KARtiNlNA. 

"The  count  had  just  gone  to  the  railroad  station,"  said 
Mikhail,  as  he  handed  her  back  the  note. 

"Go  with  this  note  to  the  Countess  Vronskaia's  in  the 
country,  you  understand?  and  bring  an  answer  back  to  me 
immediately  !  " 

"  But  what  was  I  going  to  do?  "  she  thought.  "  Yes  ;  I 
was  going  to  see  Dolly,  to  be  sure  ;  but  I  shall  be  crazy. 
Ah!  I  might  telegraph!"  and  she  wrote  the  following 
despatch:  "I  absolutely  must  speak  to  you.  Come  back 
immediately." 

Having  sent  the  telegram,  she  went  and  dressed  ;  and  then, 
with  her  hat  on,  she  again  looked  at  Annushka,  whose  little, 
gentle  gray  eyes  were  full  of  sympathy. 

"  Annushka,  my  dear,  what  am  I  to  do?  "  murmured  she, 
dropping  into  an  arm-chair,  with  a  sob. 

"  You  musu't  excite  yourself  so,  Anna  Arkadyevna.  Go 
out  for  a  walk :  that  will  divert  you.  These  things  will 
happen." 

"Yes,  I  am  going  out,"  said  Anna,  collecting  her  thoughts, 
and  rising.  "  If  a  despatch  comes  while  I  am  gone,  send  it 
to  Darya  Aleksandrovna's.  Or —  no,  I  will  come  back." 

"I  must  keep  from  thinking.  I  must  do  something,  and 
go  out,  and,  above  all,  get  out  of  this  house,"  thought  she, 
listening,  with  alarm,  to  the  wild  beating  of  her  heart.  She 
quickly  got  into  the  carriage.  "  To  the  Princess  Oblou- 
skaia's,"  she  said  to  Piotr,  the  driver. 


XXVIII. 

THE  weather  was  clear.  A  fine,  thick  rain  had  fallen  all 
the  morning.  But  now  it  was  bright.  The  roofs  and  flag- 
stones and  harnesses  and  the  metal-work  of  the  carriages 
glittered  in  the  May  sunshine.  It  was  three  o'clock,  the 
busiest  time  in  the  streets. 

Sitting  in  the  corner  of  the  comfortable  carriage,  which  was 
rapidly  drawn  by  a  pair  of  grays,  Anna,  under  the  influence 
of  the  easy  motion  of  the  springs,  and  the  fresh,  pure  air, 
reviewed  the  events  of  the  past  few  days,  and  her  situation 
seemed  entirely  different  from  what  it  had  been  at  home. 
The  idea  of  death  did  not  frighten  her  so  much,  and  did  not 
seem  to  her  so  inevitable.  Now  she  blamed  herself  for  the 
humiliation  to  which  she  had  stooped.  "I  begged  him  to 


ANNA  EAR£NINA.  713 

forgive  me.  I  bent  before  him.  I  accused  myself?  Why 
did  I?  Can't  I  live  without  him?"  And,  leaving  this 
question  unanswered,  she  began  to  read  the  sign-boards 
mechanically.  "•  Office  and  warehouse.  Surgeon-Dentist.1  — 
Yes,  I  will  tell  Dolly  all  about  it.  She  does  not  love  Vron- 
sky.  It  will  be  hard,  shameful  to  confess  every  thing  —  but 
I  will.  She  loves  me.  I'll  follow  her  advice.  I  will  not 
allow  myself  to  be  treated  like  a  child.  PhiUppof — Ka- 
latchi  [little  cakes]  ;  they  say  they  send  them  as  far  as 
Petersburg.  The  water  at  Moscow  is  so  good ;  ah !  the 
wells  of  Muitishchensky  !  "  And  she  remembered  how  long, 
long  ago,  when  she  was  seventeen,  she  had  gone  with  her 
aunt  to  the  monastery  of  Troitsa 2  [Trinity] . 

"•They  travelled  with  horses  in  those  days.  Was  it  really 
I,  with  the  red  hands?  How  many  things  which  seemed  then 
beautiful  and  unattainable,  are  worthless  to  me  now !  What 
I  was  then,  is  passed  forever  beyond  recall !  And  ages 
could  not  bring  me  back.  Would  I  have  believed  then  that 
I  could  have  fallen  into  such  debasement?  How  proud  and 
self-satisfied  he  will  be  when  he  reads  my  note  !  But  I  will 
tell  him  —  How  disagreeable  this  paint  smells  !  Why  are  they 
always  painting  and  building!  Fashionable  Dressmaker." 
[inodui  i  uborui~\  she  read. 

A  man  bowed  to  her:  it  was  Annushka's  husband.  "Our 
parasites,  as  Vronsky  says.  Ours?  Wh}-  ours?  Ah,  if  one 
could  tear  out  the  past  by  the  roots !  But  that's  impossible : 
one  can  only  avoid  thinking  about  it.  And  I  do  that." 
And  yet  here  she  recalled  her  past  with  Aleks£i  Aleksandro- 
vitch,  and  how  she  drove  him  out  of  her  memory.  "  Dolly 
will  think  that  I  am  leaving  the  second  husbaud,  and  that  I 
am  therefore  really  bad.  Do  I  want  to  be  good?  I  cannot." 
—  And  she  felt  the  tears  coming.  And  seeing  two  happy 
young  girls  going  by,  she  fell  to  wondering  why  the}7  were 
smiling  at  each  other.  "  Probabby  about  love.  They  don't 
know  how  sad  and  wretched  it  is.  The  boulevards  and  the 
children  !  There  are  three  little  boys,  playing  horse.  Sero- 
zha  !  my  little  Serozha.  1  shall  lose  all.  I  shall  never  have 
him  again.  Da!  if  he  does  not  come  back,  all  is  indeed 
lost.  Perhaps  he  missed  the  tan,  and  has  alread}*  reached 

1  Kontor  i  sklad.    Zubnoi'  Vratch. 

1  The  TroUifka'ia  Zorrra,  near  Moscow,  founded  by  St.  Sergius  in  the  fourteenth 
century  in  the  time  of  the  Grand  Prince  Simeon;  the  richest  and  most  famous  in- 
stitution of  its  kind  in  Russia.  At  one  time  it  had  700  monks  and  110,000  souls,  or 
male  serfs. 


714  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

home.  Do  I  wish  to  humiliate  myself  still  more?  "  she  said, 
reproaching  herself  for  her  weakness.  "  No,  I'm  going  to 
Dolly's.  I  shall  sa}1  to  her,  '  I  am  unhappy,  I  am  suffering ; 
I  deserve  it:  but  I  am  so  unhappy,  help  me!  '  Oh,  these 
horses,  this  carriage  !  how  I  hate  to  use  them !  they  are  his. 
I  will  never  see  them  again  !  "  While  thinking  over  what 
she  should  say  to  Dolly,  and  deliberately  torturing  her  heart, 
she  reached  the  house,  and  went  up  the  steps. 

"  Is  there  company?  "  she  asked,  in  the  ante-room. 

"  Katerina  Aleksandrovna  Levina,"  answered  the  servant. 

'"Kitty,    the    same    Kitty    that    Vronsky    once    loved," 

thought  Anna  ;  "  and  he  thinks  of  her  with  love,  and  is  sorry 

that  he  did  not  marry  her  ;  and  he  thinks  of  me  with  hate, 

and  is  sorry  that  he  ever  met  me." 

When  Anna  arrived,  the  two  sisters  were  talking  over  the 
subject  of  Kitty's  diet.  Dolly  went  alone  to  the  parlor  to 
receive  her. 

"  You  haven't  gone  away  yet?  I  was  just  going  to  your 
house.  I  have  a  letter  from  Stiva  to-day." 

"We  had  a"  despatch,"  answered  Anna,  turning  to  see  if 
Kitty  were  coming. 

"  He  writes  that  he  does  not  understand  what  Aleks^i 
Aleksandrovitch  requires,  but  that  he  will  not  come  away  till 
he  has  a  definite  answer." 

"  I  thought  that  you  had  company.  Can  I  read  the 
letter?" 

"Yes,  —  Kitty,"  said  Dolly,  disturbed:  "she  is  in  the 
nursery.  You  know  she  has  been  very  ill." 

"  I  heard  so.     Can  I  read  the  letter  ?  " 

"  Certainly  :  I'll  go  and  look  for  it.  Aleksei  Aleksandro- 
vitch does  not  refuse  :  on  the  contrary,  Stiva  is  quite  hope- 
ful," said  Dolly,  stopping  at  the  door. 

"  I  neither  hope  nor  want  any  thing.  Does  Kitty  think  it 
beneath  her  dignity  to  meet  me?"  thought  Anna,  when  she 
was  left  alone.  "Perhaps  she  is  right;  but  she  who  once 
loved  Vronsky  has  no  right  to  thrust  it  in  my  face,  even  if 
she  is  right.  I  know  that  a  virtuous  woman  cannot  receive 
me  in  my  present  position.  I  have  given  up  every  thing  for 
him,  and  this  is  my  reward  !  Ah,  how  I  hate  him  !  Why 
did  I  come  here?  I  am  more  wretched  here  than  at  home." 
She  heard  the  voices  of  the  two  sisters  in  an  adjoining  room. 
"  And  what  am  I  to  say  to  Dolly?  Delight  Kitty  with  the 
spectacle  of  my  misery  ?  Submit  to  her  condescension? 


ANNA  KAE£NINA.  .      715 

Da!  Even  Dolly  wouldn't  understand.  I  will  not  say  any 
thing  to  her.  All  I  should  want  to  see  Kitty  for  would  be 
to  show  her  that  I  am  indifferent,  —  that  I  scorn  it  all." 

Dolly  came  in  with  the  letter  :  Anna  looked  it  through,  and 
returned  it. 

"  I  knew  all  that,"  said  she  ;  "  but  it  doesn't  interest  me 
at  all." 

"  Da!  Why  not?  I  have  good  hope,"  said  Dolly,  look- 
ing critically  at  Anna.  She  had  never  seen  her  in  such  a 
strange  state  of  irritation.  "  When  do  you  go  away?  " 

Anna  half  closed  her  eyes,  and  looked  before  her  without 
answering. 

"Is  Kitty  afraid  of  me?"  she  asked,  after  a  moment, 
glancing  towards  the  door  with  heightened  color. 

"  Ach,  what  nonsense  !  But  she  is  nursing  the  baby,  and 
cannot  come  just  yet.  —  On  the  contrary,  she  is  delighted, 
and  is  coming  directly,"  answered  Dolly  awkwardly,  as  she 
disliked  telling  a  fib.  "  There  she  is  now." 

When  Kitty  heard  of  Anna's  call,  she  had  not  wished  to 
appear ;  but  Dolly  reasoned  with  her,  and  she  finally  con- 
trolled her  repugnance,  and  went  to  the  parlor.  She  blushed 
as  she  approached  Anna,  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"•  I  am  very  glad,"  said  she,  in  a  low  voice. 

Kitty  was  constrained  between  her  dislike  of  this  wicked 
woman  and  her  desire  to  be  polite  to  her ;  but  as  soon  as  she 
saw  Anna's  beautiful,  sympathetic  face,  all  her  prejudice 
vanished. 

"  I  should  have  thought  it  quite  natural  if  you  had  refused 
to  see  me-  I  am  used  to  every  thing,"  said  Anna.  "  You 
have  been  very  ill :  yes,  you  have  changed." 

Kitty  thought  that  Anna  looked  at  her  with  dislike,  and 
she  attributed  her  unfriendliness  to  the  unpleasant  position 
in  which  she  stood  in  regard  to  herself.  Her  heart  was  filled 
with  compassion. 

They  talked  of  Kitty's  illness,  of  her  child,  and  of  Stiva ; 
but  Anna  was  evidently  absent-minded. 

"  I  came  to  bid  you  good-by,"  she  said  to  Dolly,  as  she 
rose. 

"  A\rhen  do  you  go?  " 

Without  answering  her,  Anna  turned  with  a  smile  to  Kitty. 

"  Da!  I  am  very  glad  to  have  seen  you  again,  I've  heard 
so  much  about  you  from  everybody,  and  especially  from 
your  husband.  He  came  to  see  me,  and  I  liked  him  very 


716  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

much,"  she  added,  with  a  wicked  emphasis.  "Where  is 
he?" 

"He  has  gone  to  the  country,"  answered  Kitty,  blush- 
ing. 

"  Give  my  love  to  him  :  now,  don't  forget !  " 

"  I  will  do  it,  certainly,"  said  Kitty  simply,  with  a  com- 
passionate look. 

"So  proshclitii  [good-by],  Dolly,"  said  Anna,  kissing 
her ;  and  shaking  hands  with  Kitty,  she  hastened  away. 

"She  is  as  fascinating  as  ever,"  remarked  Kitty  to  her 
sister,  when  Doll}'  came  in  after  going  to  the  door  with 
Anna.  "  And  how  beautiful  she  is  !  But  there  is  something 
very  painful  about  her,  —  terribly  painful." 

"  She  doesn't  seem  to  be  in  her  usual  state  to-day.  I 
thought  she  came  near  bursting  into  tears  in  the  ante- 
room." 


XXIX. 

ANNA  took  her  seat  in  the  carriage,  and  went  home  more 
unhappy  than  ever.  Her  interview  with  Kitty  awakened  the 
consciousness  of  her  own  moral  depravity,  and  the  pain  of 
this  she  felt  in  addition  to  her  former  sufferings. 

"  Where  shall  I  drive  you?     Home?  "  asked  Piotr. 

"  Yes,  home,"  she  replied,  scarcely  knowing  what  she 
said. 

"  They  looked  upon  me  as  some  strange,  incomprehensible 
creature. —  What  can  that  man  be  saying  so  eagerly  to  the 
other?  "  thought  she,  seeing  two  passers-by  talking  together. 
"  Is  it  possible  to  say  what  one  really  feels  ?  I  wanted  to  con- 
fess to  Dolly,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  kept  still.  How  she  would 
have  rejoiced  at  my  uuhappiuess  !  She  would  have  tried  to 
hide  it,  but  at  heart  she  would  have  been  glad :  she  would 
have  thought  it  just  that  I  should  pay  for  that  happiness 
which  she  begrudged  me.  And  Kitty  would  have  been  still 
more  pleased.  How  I  read  her  through  and  through  !  She 
knows  her  husband  liked  me  uncommonly  well,  and  she  is 
jealous,  and  hates  me ;  and,  what's  more,  she  despises  me. 
In  her  eyes,  I  am  an  immoral  woman.  If  I  had  been  what 
she  thinks,  how  easily  I  could  have  turned  her  husband's 
head  if  I  had  wanted  to  !  I  confess  I  thought  of  it.  — There 
goes  a  man  who  is  delighted  with  his  own  looks,"  she  said 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  717 

to  herself,  as  a  tall,  florid  man  went  b}',  and,  mistaking  her 
for  an  acquaintance,  lifted  his  shiny  hat  from  his  shiny  bald 
head.  "He  thought  he  knew  me  !  He  knows  me  quite  as 
well  as  anybody  in  the  world  knows  me.  I  don't  know  my- 
self :  I  only  know  my  appetites,  as  the  French  say.  —  They 
covet  some  of  that  bad  ice-cream,"  she  said  to  herself,  as 
she  watched  two  little  street-children  standing  in  front  of  a 
vender,  who  had  just  set  down  from  his  head  his  tub  of  ice- 
cream, and  was  wiping  his  face  with  a  corner  of  his  coat. 
"  We  all  want  our  sweet  delicacies  ;  if  not  sugar-plums,  then 
bad  ice-cream,  just  like  Kitty,  who,  not  catching  Vrousky, 
took  Levin.  She  envies  me,  she  hates  me ;  and  we  hate 
each  other.  So  goes  the  world.  Tintkin  coiffeur  —  Je  me 
fais  coiffer  ['  I  will  have  my  hair  dressed  ']  par  Tiutkin.  — 
I  will  tell  him  this  nonsense  when  he  comes,"  thought 
she,  and  smiled,  and  then  instantly  remembered  that  there 
was  no  one  now  to  whom  she  could  tell  amusing  things. 
l-  There  is  nothing  amusing,  nothing  gay:  it  is  all  disgust- 
ing. The  vesper-bell  is  ringing,  and  that  storekeeper  is 
crossing  himself  so  quickly  that  one  would  think  he  was 
afraid  of  losing  the  chance. 

"  Why  these  churches,  these  bells,  these  lies?  Just  to 
hide  the  fact  that  we  all  hate  each  other,  like  those  izvoshchiks 
who  are  swearing  at  each  other  so  angrily.  Yashvin  was 
right  when  he  said,  '  He  is  after  my  shirt,  and  I  am  after 
his.'  ' 

She  was  sfc  engrossed  by  these  thoughts  that  she  forgot 
her  grief  for  a  while,  and  was  surprised  when  the  carriage 
stopped  in  front  of  her  house.  The  sight  of  the  Swiss,  com- 
ing to  meet  her,  reminded  her  that  she  had  sent  a  letter  and 
a  telegram. 

"  Is  there  an  answer  yet?  " 

"  I  will  go  and  see,"  said  the  Swiss ;  and  he  came  back  in 
a  moment  with  a  telegram  in  a  thin  square  envelope.  Anna 
read,  — 

"  I  cannot  be  back  before  ten  o'clock.  VBONSKT." 

"  And  has  the  messenger  come  back?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  the  Swiss. 

"Ah  !  if  that  is  so,  then  I  know  what  I  must  do  ;"  and  feel- 
ing a  vague  sense  of  anger  and  a  desire  for  vengeance  arising 
in  her  soul,  she  ran  up-stairs. 


718  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

"  I  myself  will  go  and  find  him,"  thought  she.  "  Before 
I  go  away  forever,  I  will  show  him  what  he  has  done.  I  never 
hated  any  one  as  I  hate  this  man  !  "  And  when  she  caught 
sight  of  Vrousky's  hat  hanging  in  the  ante-room,  she  shivered 
with  aversion.  She  did  not  reflect  that  the  despatch  was  in 
answer  to  her  telegram,  and  that  he  could  not  have  yet  re- 
ceived her  note.  She  imagined  him  now  chatting  gayly  with 
his  mother  and  the  Princess  Sorokina  without  a  thought  of 
her  suffering.  "  Yes,  I  must  go  as  quickly  as  possible,"  she 
said,  not  knowing  at  all  whither  she  should  go.  She  felt 
that  she  must  fly  from  these  thoughts  which  weighed  her  down 
in  this  terrible  house.  The  servants,  the  walls,  the  furniture, 
every  thing  about  it,  filled  her  with  disgust  and  pain,  and 
crushed  her  with  a  terrible  weight. 

"Yes,  I  must  go  to  the  railroad  station,  and  if  not  there, 
then  somewhere,  to  punish  him."  Anna  looked  at  the  time- 
table in  the  newspaper.  The  evening  train  went  at  two  minutes 
past  eight.  "  Yes,  I  shall  have  plenty  of  time."  She  ordered 
the  two  other  horses  to  be  harnessed,  and  she  had  transferred 
from  her  trunk  to  her  travelling-bag  things  enough  to  last 
for  several  days.  She  knew  that  she  should  never  come  back 
again.  She  revolved  a  thousand  plans  in  her  head,  and  deter- 
mined that  when  she  had  done  what  she  had  in  mind  to  do, 
either  at  the  countess's  country-seat,  or  at  the  station,  she 
would  go  to  the  first  city  on  the  Nizhni  Novgorod  Railroad  that 
she  might  happen  to  think  of.  Dinner  was  on  the  table.  She 
took  a  bit  of  bread  and  cheese  :  the  smell  of  tlft  victuals  was 
repugnant  to  her.  She  ordered  the  carriage  again,  and  went 
out.  The  house  cast  a  shadow  clear  across  the  street ;  but 
the  sky  was  clear,  and  it  was  warm  in  the  sun.  Annushka, 
who  brought  her  things,  and  Piotr,  who  carried  them  to  the 
carriage,  and  the  coachman,  who  was  evidently  angry,  all 
were  disagreeable  to  her,  and  vexed  her  with  their  words 
and  motions. 

"  I  do  not  need  you,  Piotr." 

"  Who  will  get  your  ticket?  " 

"Nu!  Go  if  you  wish:  it  makes  no  difference  to  me," 
she  said  pettishly.  Piotr  nimbly  mounted  the  box,  and,  fold- 
ing his  arms,  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  to  the  Nizhni 
station. 


ANNA  KARfiNIFA  719 


XXX. 

"  Now  I  am  myself  again,  —  now  my  mind  is  clear,"  said 
Anna  to  herself,  as  soon  as  the  carriage  started,  and,  rolling 
a  little,  flew  swiftly  along  the  uneven  pavement. 

"  Da  !  what  was  that  good  thing  that  I  was  thinking  about 
last?  Tintkin,  the  coiffeur?  Oh,  no !  not  that.  Oh,  yes ! 
what  Yashvin  said  about  the  struggle  for  existence,  and 
hatred,  the  only  thing  that  unites  men.  No :  we  go  at  hap- 
hazard." 

She  saw  in  a  carriage  drawn  by  four  horses  a  party  of 
merrymakers,  who  had  evidently  come  to  the  city  for  a  pleas- 
ure-trip. 

"  What  are  you  seeking  under  the  disguise  of  pleasure?" 
she  thought.  "You  won't  escape  from  yourselves;"  and 
then,  as  her  eye  fell  on  a  drunken  workman,  led  by  a 
policeman,  she  added,  "That  man's  way  is  quicker.  Count 
Vronsky  and  I  did  not  reach  this  pleasure,  though  we  ex- 
pected much." 

And  for  the  first  time  Anna  turned  upon  her  relations 
with  the  count  this  bright  light  which  was  suddenly  reveal- 
ing her  life  to  her. 

"  What  did  he  seek  in  me?  A  satisfaction  for  his  vanity, 
rather  than  for  his  love  ! ' ' 

And  she  remembered  Vronsky's  words,  and  the  expression 
of  his  face,  which  reminded  her  of  a  submissive  dog,  when 
they  first  met  and  loved.  Every  thing  seemed  a  confirma- 
tion of  this  thought. 

'  '•Da  !  he  cared  for  the  triumph  of  success  above  every  thing. 
Of  course,  he  loved  me,  but  chiefly  from  vanity.  Now  that 
he  is  not  proud  of  me  any  more,  it  is  over.  He  is  ashamed 
of  me.  He  has  taken  from  me  all  that  he  could  take,  and 
now  I  am  of  no  use  to  him.  I  weigh  upon  him,  and  he 
does  not  want  to  be  in  dishonorable  relationship  with  me. 
He  said,  yesterday,  he  wanted  the  divorce,  so  as  to  burn 
his  ships.  Perhaps  he  loves  me  still,  —  but  how?  The 
zest  is  gone,"  she  said,  in  English,  as  she  looked  at  a 
ruddy-faced  man  riding  by  on  a  hired  horse. 

"  Da!  there  is  nothing  about  me  any  longer  to  his  taste. 
If  I  leave  him,  he  will  rejoice  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart." 

This  was  not  mere  hypothesis :  she  saw  things  now 
clearly,  as  by  a  sort  of  clairvoyance. 


720  ANNA 

"  My  love  has  been  growing  more  and  more  selfish  and 
passionate  :  his  has  been  growing  fainter  and  fainter.  That 
is  why  we  cannot  go  on  together.  He  is  all  in  all  to  me.  I 
struggle  to  draw  him  closer  and  closer  to  me,  and  he  wants 
to  fly  from  me.  Up  to  the  time  of  our  union,  we  flew  to 
meet  each  other ;  but  now  we  move  apart.  He  accuses  me 
of  being  absurdly  jealous, — and  lam;  and  yet  1  am  not, 
either.  I  am  not  jealous,  but  my  love  is  no  longer  satis- 
fied. But" — she  opened  her  mouth  to  speak,  and,  in  the 
excitement  caused  by  the  stress  of  her  thoughts,  she  changed 
her  place  in  the  carriage. 

"  If  I  could,  I  would  try  to  be  a  simple  friend  to  him,  and 
not  a  passionate  mistress,  whom  his  coldness  frenzies  ;  but 
I  cannot  transform  myself.  I  am  not  mistaken.  Don't  I 
know  that  he  would  not  deceive  me,  that  he  is  no  longer  in 
love  with  Kitty,  that  he  has  no  intention  of  marrying  the 
Princess  Sorokina?  I  know  it  well,  but  it  is  none  the 
easier  for  me.  But  what  is  that  to  me?  If  he  is  tired 
of  my  love,  —  if,  when  he  does  not  feel  for  me  just  what  I 
feel  for  him,  —  I  would,  a  thousand  times,  rather  have  him 
hate  me.  This  is — hell !  And  this  is  the  case.  He  has  long 
ceased  to  love  me.  When  love  ceases,  disgust  begins.  —  I 
don't  know  these  streets  at  all.  What  hosts  of  houses  !  and 
in  them,  people,  people,  —  no  end  of  them!  and  they  all 
hate  each  other ! 

"Nu!  what  could  happen  to  me  now  that  would  give  me 
happiness  again?  Suppose  that  Ah'kse"i  Aleksandrovitch 
should  consent  to  the  divorce,  and  would  give  me  back  Se- 
rozha,  and  that  I  should  marry  Vronsky?"  And  as  she 
thought  of  Aleksei  Aleksandrovitch,  Anna  could  see  him 
before  her,  with  his  dull,  lifeless,  faded  eyes,  his  white,  blue- 
veined  hands,  and  his  cracking  joints  ;  and  the  idea  of  their 
relation  to  one  another,  which  had  hitherto  been  tinged  with 
tenderness,  made  her  shudder. 

"•  Nu!  Suppose  I  were  married,  would  not  Kitty  still  look 
at  me  as  she  looked  at  me  to-day  ?  Would  not  Serozha  ask 
and  wonder  why  I  had  two  husbands?  But  between  me  and 
Vronsky  what  new  feeling  could  I  imagine  ?  Is  it  possible 
that  our  relations  might  be,  if  not  pleasanter,  at  least  no 
worse  than  they  are  now?  No,  and  no !  "  she  replied,  with- 
out the  least  hesitation.  "Impossible!  We  are  growing 
apart;  and  I  am  disagreeable  to  him,  and  he  displeases  me. 
and  I  cannot  change  him  :  every  means  has  been  tried.  .  .  . 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  721 

Da!  there's  a  beggar  with  a  child.  She  thinks  she  inspires 
pity.  Were  we  not  thrown  into  the  world  to  hate  each  other, 
and  to  torment  ourselves  and  everybody  else?  Here  come 
the  schoolboys  out  to  play!  Serozha?"  It  reminded  her 
of  her  sou.  "  I  used  to  think  that  I  loved  him,  and  I  \vas 
touched  by  his  gentleness.  I  also  lived  without  him,  gave 
him  up  for  my  love,  and  was  not  sorry  for  the  change,  since 
I  \vas  contented  with  him  whom  I  loved."  And  she  remem- 
bered with  disgust  what  she  called  that  love.  And  the  clear- 
ness in  which  she  now  saw  her  own  life,  as  well  as  the  lives 
of  others,  delighted  her.  "Thus  am  I,  and  Piotr  and  the 
coachman,  Feodor,  and  that  merchant,  and  all  people  from 
here  to  the  Volga,  wherever  these  remarks  are  applicable  — 
and  everywhere  and  always,"  she  thought  as  the  carriage 
stopped  in  front  of  the  low-roofed  station  of  the  Nizhni 
Novgorod  Railroad,  and  the  porter  came  out  to  meet  her. 

"  Shall  I  book  you  for  Obiralovki?  "  asked  Piotr. 

She  had  entirely  forgotten  why  she  had  come,  and  only  by 
a  great  effort  could  she  understand  what  he  meant. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  handing  him  her  purse  ;  and  taking  her 
little  red  bag,  she  got  out  of  the  carriage. 

As  she  entered  with  the  throng,  she  reviewed  all  the  de- 
tails of  her  situation  and  the  plans  between  which  she  was 
halting.  And  again  hope  and  despair  alternately  filled  her 
tortured,  cruelly  palpitating  heart.  As  she  sat  on  the  stelli- 
form  divan,  she  looked  with  aversion  on  the  people  going  and 
coming,  —  they  were  all  her  enemies,  — and  thought  now  of 
how,  when  she  reached  the  station,  she  would  write  to  him, 
and  what  she  would  write,  and  then  how  at  this  very  moment 
he  —  not  thinking  of  her  suffering  —  was  complaining  to  his 
mother  of  his  position,  and  how  she  would  go  to  his  room, 
and  what  she  would  say  to  him.  The  thought  that  she  might 
yet  live  happily  crossed  her  brain  ;  and  how  hard  it  was  to 
love  and  hate  him  at  the  same  time !  And  above  all,  how 
her  heart  was  beating,  as  if  to  burst  its  bounds  ! 


XXXI. 

A  BELL  sounded,  and  some  impudent  }*oung  men  of  a  flashy 
and  vulgar  appearance  passed  before  her.     Then  Piotr,  in^ 
his  livery  and  top-boots,  with  his  dull,  good-natured  face, 
crossed  the  waiting-room,  and  came  up  to  escort  her  to  the 


722  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

cars.  The  noisy  men  about  the  door  stopped  talking  while 
she  passed  out  upon  the  platform  ;  then  one  of  them  made 
some  remark  to  his  neighbor,  which  was  apparently  an  insult. 
Anna  mounted  the  high  steps,  and  sat  down  alone  in  the  com- 
partment on  the  dirty  sofa  which  once  had  been  white,  and 
laid  her  bag  beside  her  on  the  springy  seat.  Piotr  raised  his 
gold-laced  hat,  with  an  inane  smile,  for  a  farewell,  and  de- 
parted. The  saucy  conductor  shut  the  door.  A  woman, 
deformed,  and  ridiculously  dressed  up,  followed  by  a  lit- 
tle girl  laughing  affectedly,  passed  below  the  car-window. 
Anna  looked  at  her  with  disgust.  The  little  girl  was  speak- 
ing loud  in  a  mixture  of  Russian  and  French. 

"That  child  is  grotesque  and  already  self-conscious," 
thought  Anna ;  and  she  seated  herself  at  the  opposite  win- 
dow of  the  empty  apartment,  to  avoid  seeing  the  people. 

A  dirty,  hunchbacked  muzhik  passed  close  to  the  window, 
and  examined  the  car-wheels :  he  wore  a  cap,  from  beneath 
which  could  be  seen  tufts  of  dishevelled  hair.  "There  is 
something  familiar  about  that  hump-backed  muzhik,"  thought 
Anna  ;  and  suddenly  she  remembered  her  nightmare,  and  drew 
back  frightened  towards  the  car-door,  which  the  conductor  was 
just  opening  to  admit  a  lady  and  gentleman. 

"  Do  you  want  to  get  out?" 

Anna  did  not  answer,  and  under  her  veil  no  one  could  see 
the  terror  which  paralyzed  her.  She  sat  down  again.  The 
couple  took  seats  opposite  her,  and  cast  stealthy  but  curious 
glances  at  her  dress.  The  husband  and  wife  were  obnoxious 
to  her.  The  husband  asked  her  if  she  objected  to  smoking, 
—  evidently  not  for  the  sake  of  smoking,  but  as  an  excuse  for 
entering  into  conversation  with  her.  Having  obtained  her  per- 
mission, he  remarked  to  his  wife  in  French  that  he  felt  even 
more  inclined  to  talk  than  to  smoke.  They  exchanged  stupid 
remarks,  with  the  hope  of  attracting  Anna's  attention,  and 
drawing  her  into  the  conversation.  Anna  clearly  saw  how 
they  bored  each  other,  how  they  hated  each  other.  It  was 
impossible  not  to  hate  such  painful  monstrosities.  The  sec- 
ond gong  sounded,  and  was  followed  by  the  rumble  of  bag- 
gage, noise,  shouts,  laughter.  Anna  saw  so  clearly  that 
there  was  nothing  to  rejoice  at,  that  this  laughter  roused  her 
indignation,  and  she  longed  to  stop  her  ears.  At  last  the 
third  signal  was  given,  the  train  started,  the  locomotive 
whistled,  and  the  gentleman  crossed  himself.  "  It  would  be 
interesting  to  ask  him  what  he  meant  by  that,"  thought 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  723 

Auua,  looking  at  him  angrily.  Then  she  looked  by  the 
woman's  head  out  of  the  car-window  at  the  people  standing 
and  walking  on  the  platform.  The  car  in  which  Anna  sat 
moved  past  the  stone  walls  of  the  station,  the  switches,  the 
other  cars.  The  motion  became  more  rapid  :  the  rays  of  the 
setting  snn  slanted  into  the  car-window,  and  a  light  breeze 
played  through  the  slats  of  the  blinds. 

Forgetting  her  neighbors,  Anna  breathed  in  the  fresh  air, 
and  took  up  again  the  course  of  her  thoughts. 

"Da!  What  was  I  thinking  about?  I  cannot  imagine 
any  situation  in  which  my  life  could  be  any  thing  but  one 
long  misery.  We  are  all  dedicated  to  unhappiness :  we  all 
know  it,  and  only  seek  for  ways  to  deceive  ourselves.  But 
when  you  see  the  truth,  what  is  to  be  done?  " 

%t  Reason  was  given  to  man,  that  he  might  avoid  what  he 
dislikes."  remarked  the  woman,  in  French,  apparently  de- 
lighted with  her  sentence. 

The  words  fitted  in  with  Anna's  thought. 

"  To  avoid  what  he  dislikes,"  she  repeated  ;  and  a  glance 
at  the  handsome-faced  man,  and  his  thin  better  half,  showed 
her  that  the  woman  looked  upon  herself  as  a  misunderstood 
creature,  and  that  her  stout  husband  did  not  contradict  this 
opinion,  but  took  advantage  of  it  to  deceive  her.  Anna,  as 
it  were,  read  their  history,  and  looked  into  the  most  secret 
depths  of  their  hearts  ;  but  it  was  not  interesting,  and  she 
went  on  with  her  reflections. 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  unpleasant  to  me,  and  reason  was  given 
to  avoid  it :  therefore,  it  must  be  done.  Why  not  extinguish 
the  light  when  it  shines  on  things  disgusting  to  see?  But 
how?  Why  does  the  conductor  keep  hurrying  through  the 
car?  Why  does  he  shout?  Why  are  there  people  in  this 
car?  Why  <lo  they  speak?  What  are  they  laughing  at? 
It  is  all  false,  all  a  lie,  all  deception,  all  vanity  and  vexa- 
tion." 

When  the  train  reached  the  station,  Anna  followed  the 
other  passengers,  and  tried  to  avoid  too  rude  a  contact  with 
the  bustling  crowd.  She  hesitated  on  the  platform,  trying 
to  recollect  why  she  had  come,  and  to  ask  herself  what  she 
meant  to  do.  All  that  seemed  to  her  possible  before  to  do, 
now  seemed  to  her  difficult  to  execute,  especially  amid  this 
disagreeable  crowd.  Now  the  porters  came  to  her,  and 
offered  her  their  services  ;  now  some  young  men,  clattering 
up  and  down  the  platform,  and  talking  loud,  observed  her 


724  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

curiously  ;  and  she  knew  not  where  to  take  refuge.  Finally, 
it  occurred  to  her  to  stop  an  official,  and  ask  him  if  a  coach- 
man had  not  been  there  with  a  letter  for  Count  Vronsky. 

"The  Count  Vronsky?  Just  now  some  one  was  here.  He 
was  inquiring  for  the  Princess  Sorokina  and  her  daughter. 
What  kind  of  a  looking  man  is  this  coachman?  " 

Just  then  Anna  espied  the  coachman  Mikhail,  rosy  and  gay 
in  his  elegant  blue  livery  and  watch-chain,  coming  towards 
her,  and  carrying  a  note,  immense!}*  proud  that  he  had  ful- 
filled his  commission. 

Anna  broke  the  seal,  and  her  heart  stood  still  as  she  read 
the  carelessly  written  lines  :  — 

"I  am  very  sorry  that  your  note  did  not  find  me  in  Moscow.  I 
shall  return  at  ten  o'clock." 

"  Yes,  that  is  what  I  expected,"  she  said  to  herself,  with 
a  sardonic  smile. 

"  Very  good,  you  can  go  home,"  she  said  to  Mikhail.  She 
spoke  the  words  slowly  and  gently,  because  her  heart  beat 
so  that  she  could  scarcely  breathe  or  speak. 

"  No,  I  will  not  let  you  make  me  suffer  so,"  thought  she, 
addressing  with  a  threat,  not  Vronsky  so  much  as  the  thought 
that  was  torturing  her ;  and  she  moved  along  the  platform. 
Two  chamber-maids  waiting  there  turned  to  look  at  her,  and 
made  audible  remarks  about  her  toilet.  "Just  in  st}ie," 
they  said,  referring  to  her  lace.  The  young  men  would  not 
leave  her  in  peace.  They  stared  at  her,  and  passed  her  again 
and  again,  making  their  jokes  so  that  she  should  hear.  The 
station-master  came  to  her,  and  asked  if  she  was  going  to 
take  the  train.  A  lad  selling  kratt  did  not  take  his  eyes  from 
her. 

"  Bozhe  mot !  where  shall  I  fly?  "  she  said  to  herself. 

When  she  reached  the  end  of  the  platform,  she  stopped. 
Some  women  and  children  were  there,  talking  with  a  man  in 
spectacles,  who  had  probably  come  to  the  station  to  meet 
them.  They,  too,  stopped,  and  turned  to  see -Anna  pass  by. 
She  hastened  her  steps.  A  truck  full  of  trunks  rumbled  by, 
making  the  floor  shake  so  that  she  felt  as  if  she  were  on  a 
moving  train. 

Suddenly  she  remembered  the  man  who  was  run  over  on 
the  day  when  she  met  Vronsky  for  the  first  time,  and  she 
knew  then  what  was  in  store  for  her.  With  light  and  swift 
steps  she  descended  the  stairway  which  led  from  the  pump 


ANNA   KAEtiNINA.  725 

at  the  end  of  the  platform  down  to  the  rails,  and  stood 
very  near  the  train,  which  was  slowly  passing  by.  She 
looked  under  the  cars,  at  the  chains  and  the  brake,  and  the 
high  iron  wheels,  and  she  tried  to  estimate  with  her  eye  the 
distance  between  the  fore  and  back  wheels,  and  the  moment 
when  the  middle  would  be  in  front  of  her. 

"There,"  she  said,  looking  at  the  shadow  of  the  car 
thrown  upon  the  black  coal-dust  which  covered  the  sleepers, 
"  there,  in  the  centre,  he  will  be  punished,  and  I  shall  be 
delivered  from  it  all,  —  and  from  myself." 

Her  little  red  travelling-bag  caused  her  to  lose  the  moment 
when  she  could  throw  herself  under  the  wheels  of  the  first 
car  :  she  could  not  detach  it  from  her  arm.  She  awaited  the 
second.  A  feeling  like  that  she  had  experienced  once,  just 
before  taking  a  dive  in  the  river,  came  over  her,  and  she 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross.  This  familiar  gesture  called  back 
to  her  soul,  memories  of  youth  and  childhood.  Life,  with 
its  elusive  joys,  glowed  for  an  instant  before  her,  but  she 
did  not  take  her  eyes  from  the  car ;  and  when  the  middle, 
between  the  two  wheels,  appeared,  she  threw  away  her  red 
bag,  drawing  her  head  between  her  shoulders,  and,'  with  out- 
stretched hands,  threw  herself  on  her  knees  under  the  car. 
She  had  time  to  feel  afraid.  "Where  am  I?  What  am  I 
doing?  Why?"  thought  she,  trying  to  draw  back;  but  a 
great,  inflexible  mass  struck  her  head,  and  threw  her  upon 
her  back.  "  Lord,  forgive  me  all!  "  she  murmured,  feeling 
the  struggle  to  be  in  vain.  A  little  muzhik  was  working 
on  the  railroad,  mumbling  in  his  beard.  And  the  candle  by 
which  she  read,  as  in  a  book,  the  fulfilment  of  her  life's  work, 
of  its  deceptions,  its  grief,  and  its  torment,  flared  up  with 
greater  brightness  than  she  had  ever  known,  revealing  to  her 
all  that  before  was  in  darkness,  then  flickered,  grew  faint, 
and  went  out  forever. 


726  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 


PART  VIII. 

I. 

Two  months  had  passed  by,  and  though  half  the  summer 
was  gone,  Sergei  Ivanovitch  had  not  yet  made  up  his  miud 
to  leave  Moscow.  An  important  event  for  him  had  just  oc- 
curred,— the  publication  of  his  book,  entitled,  An  Essay  on 
the  Principles  and  the  Forms  of  Government  in  Europe  and 
in  Russia,  upon  which  he  had  been  working  for  six  years. 
The  introduction,  as  well  as  some  fragments  from  the  book, 
had  already  appeared  in  the  reviews,  and  certain  parts  had 
been  read'  by  the  author  to  the  people  of  his  circle  ;  but 
although  his  work  could  not  be  said  to  possess  the  charm  of 
novelty,  Serge" i  Ivanovitch  nevertheless  expected  it  to  make 
a  sensation. 

Weeks  passed  by,  however,  without  the  least  ripple  being 
apparent  in  the  literary  world.  Some  of  his  scientific  friends 
spoke  to  Koznuishef  about  his  book,  from  politeness  ;  but 
society  was  too  much  pre-occupied  with  quite  different  mat- 
ters, to  give  the  least  attention  to  a  publication  of  this 
kind.  As  for  the  newspapers,  months  went  by,  and  there  was 
absolute  silence,  except  a  squib  in  '•  The  Northern  Beetle." 
At  length,  after  three  months,  a  critical  article  appeared  in 
a  journal  of  importance.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  knew  who  the 
author  was.  He  had  met  him  at  the  house  of  a  friend. 

He  was  very  young,  very  clever  as  a  writer,  but  perfectly 
uneducated.  Notwithstanding  Serge"!  Ivanovitch's  disdain 
of  the  author,  he  began  to  read  the  article  with  extraordinary 
interest.  But  it  proved  to  be  abominable.  Evidently,  the 
critic  understood  the  book  just  exactly  as  it  should  not 
have  been  understood.  The  article  was  merely  a  selection 
of  extracts,  cleverly  put  together,  to  demonstrate  that  the 
entire  book,  in  spite  of  its  high  pretensions,  was  nothing  but 
a  tissue  of  pompous  phrases,  and  these  not  always  intelli- 


ANNA   KAEtiNINA.  727 

gible,  as  the  critic's  frequent  interrogation-points  testified. 
In  a  word,  he  tried  to  show  that  the  author  of  the  work  was 
a  perfect  ignoramus  ;  and  it  was  done  in  such  a  witty  way 
that  Sergei  Ivanovitch  himself  could  not  deny  the  wit  of  it ; 
but,  after  all,  it  was  abominable. 

Sergei  Ivanovitch,  in  spite  of  the  unusual  conscientious- 
ness with  which  he  examined  into  the  justice  of  these 
remarks,  did  not  for  a  moment  think  of  answering  the  ridicu- 
lous errors  and  blunders ;  but  he  involuntarily  remembered 
how,  when  he  met  the  young  author  of  the  article,  he  had 
showed  up  his  ignorance  in  conversation.  He,  therefore, 
understood  the  animus  of  the  criticism. 

Sergei  Ivanovitch' s  disappointment  of  seeing  the  labor  of 
six  years,  in  which  he  had  put  his  whole  soul,  pass  thus 
unnoticed,  was  verv  keen  ;  and  his  feelings  were  still  more 
tried,  because,  now  that  his  book  was  off  his  hands,  he  had 
nothing  especial  to  occupy  the  larger  part  of  his  time.  He 
w;is  bright,  well  educated,  in  perfect  health,  and  very  active  ; 
and  lie  did  not  know  how  to  employ  his  industry.  Conver- 
sations with  callers,  visits  to  the  club,  and  the  meetings  of 
committees,  took  some  of  his  time ;  but  still,  his  leisure 
weighed  heavily  upon  him. 

To  his  joy  just  at  this  time,  which  was  so  trying  to  him, 
and  after  his  interest  in  American  subjects,  foreign  famines, 
expositions,  spiritualism,  was  exhausted,  the  Slavic  question 
began  to  engross  public  attention  ;  and  Sergei  Ivanovitch, 
who  had  been  one  of  its  earliest  advocates,  gave  himself  up 
to  it  with  enthusiasm. 

Among  Sergei  Ivanovitch's  friends  nothing  else  was 
thought  about  or  talked  about  except  the  Serbian  war.  All 
the  things  that  lazy  people  are  accustomed  to  do  was  done 
for  the  help  of  these  brother  Slavs.  Balls,  concerts,  din- 
ners, the  names  of  matches,  ladies'  finery,  beer,  bar-rooms, 
every  thing  was  significantly  sympathetic  for  the  Slavs. 

With  much  that  was  said  and  written  on  this  subject,  Sergei 
Ivanovitch  could  not  agree.  He  saw  that  the  Slav  question 
was  one  of  those  fashionable  movements  that  always  carry 
people  to  extremes.  He  saw  that  many  people  with  petty 
personal  ends  in  view  took  part  in  it.  He  recognized  that 
the  newspapers  made  many  useless  and  exaggerated  state- 
ments, in  order  to  attract  attention  to  themselves,  and  be- 
little their  rivals.  He  saw  that  in  this  common  impulse  of 
society,  upstarts  put  themselves  forward,  and  outdid  each 


T28  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

other  in  showing  absurd  and  abominable  things,  —  com- 
manders-iu-chief  without  an  army,  ministers  without  a  min- 
istry, -journalists  without  a  journal,  party-leaders  without 
partisans.  He  saw  much  that  was  childish  and  absurd  ;  but 
he  also  saw  and  admired  the  enthusiasm  which  united  all 
classes,  and  which  it  was  impossible  not  to  share.  The  mas- 
sacre of  the  Serbians,  who  professed  the  same  faith,  and 
spoke  almost  the  same  language,  aroused  sympathy  for  their 
sufferings,  and  indignation  against  their  persecutors  ;  and  the 
heroism  of  the  Serbs  and  Montenegrins,  who  were  fighting 
for  a  great  cause,  caused  a  universal  desire  to  help  their 
brethren,  not  only  in  word,  but  in  deed. 

But  there  was  another  phenomenon  which  delighted  Ser- 
g£i  Ivanovitch  especially.  This  was  the  manifestation  of 
public  opinion.  Society  actually  spoke  out  its  desires. 
"The  national  soul  was  moved,"  as  Serge" i  Ivanovitch  ex- 
pressed it ;  and  the  more  he  studied  this  movement  as  a 
whole,  the  more  vast  it  seemed  to  him,  and  destined  to  mark 
an  epoch  in  the  history  of  Russia. 

He  devoted  himself  to  the  service  of  this  great  cause,  and 
forgot  all  about  his  book.  All  his  time  now  was  so  occupied 
that  he  could  scarcely  reply  to  the  letters  and  demands  made 
upon  him. 

He  worked  all  the  spring  and  a  part  of  the  summer,  and 
it  was  only  in  the  month  of  July  that  he  could  tear  himself 
away  from  his  new  employments  to  go  to  his  brother  in  the 
country. 

He  went  for  a  fortnight's  vacation,  and  rejoiced  to  find, 
even  in  the  depths  of  the  country,  in  the  very  holy  of  holies 
of  the  peasantry,  the  same  awakening  of  the  national  spirit 
in  which  he  himself  and  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  capital  and 
the  large  cities  of  the  empire  firmly  believed. 

Katavasof  seized  the  opportunity  to  fulfil  a  promise  he 
had  made  to  visit  Levin,  and  the  two  friends  left  town  the 
same  day. 

II  &  III. 

WHEN  Serge"!  Ivanovitch  and  Katavasof  reached  the  Kursk 
Railroad  station,  they  found  a  large  throng  of  enthusiastic 
people,  who  were  accompanying  a  number  of  volunteers  and 
their  friends.  Ladies  carrying  bouquets  attended  the  heroes 
of  the  hour,  to  say  good-by ;  and  the  crowd  followed  them. 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  729 

One  of  the  ladies  armed  with  bouquets  was  in  the  station, 
and  addressed  Sergei  Ivauovitch. 

"  Did  you  also  come  to  see  the  sight?  "  she  asked,  speak- 
ing iu  French. 

••  No:  I  am  going  myself,  princess;  that  is,  —  to  have  a 
little  rest  at  my  brother's.  But  are  }'ou  still  on  eecort  duty  ?  " 
he  added,  with  a  smile  of  amusement. 

"  I  have  to.  But  tell  me,  is  it  true  that  we  have  sent  off 
eight  hundred  already?  Malvinsky  told  me  so." 

"  We've  sent  off  more  than  a  thousand,  if  we  count  those 
not  immediately  from  Moscow." 

"  Nu,  vot!  I  said  so  !  "  cried  the  lady,  delighted.  "  And 
the  subscriptions?  Do  they  not  amount  to  nearly  a  mil- 
lion? " 

k-  More  than  that,  princess." 

"  Have  you  read  the  news?  They  have  beaten  the  Turks 
again." 

•'  Yes.  I  read  about  it."  And  they  began  to  talk  about 
their  acquaintances  who  had  volunteered. 

kk  Do  you  know  Count  Vronsky,  the  famous,  is  going  on 
this  train?  "  said  the  princess,  with  a  triumphant  and  signi- 
ficant smile. 

"  I  knew  that  he  was  going  :  I  heard  it,  but  I  did  not  know 
when." 

"  I  just  saw  him.  He  is  here.  His  mother  is  the  only  one 
with  him.  All  things  considered,  I  do  not  think  he  could  do 
any  thing  better." 

"Oh,  yes!     Of  course." 

During  this  conversation,  the  crowd  had  rushed  into  the 
restaurant  of  the  station,  where  a  man,  with  a  glass  in  his 
hand,  was  making  an  address  to  the  volunteers  :  — 

tk  For  the  service  of  our  faith  and  humanity  and  our  breth- 
ren," he  said,  raising  his  voice,  "  Matushka  Moskva  [Moth- 
er Moscow]  gives  you  her  blessing  in  this  noble  cause.  May 
it  prosper  !  "  he  concluded,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  The  crowd 
responded  with  cheers  ;  and  a  fresh  throng  poured  into  the 
waiting-room,  nearly  overwhelming  the  princess. 

"Ah,  princess!  What  do  you  say  to  this?"  cried  Ste- 
pan  Arkady evitch,  who,  with  a  radiant  smile  of  joy,  was 
working  his  way  through  the  crowd.  "  Didn't  he  speak 
gloriously?  Bravo!  And  here's  Serge"!  Ivauuitch.  You 
ought  to  speak  just  a  few  words,  you  know,  of  encourage- 
ment, you  do  it  so  well,"  added  Oblonsky,  touching  Koznui- 


730  ANNA   KAEfiNINA. 

shef  8  ann,  with  an  expression  of  suave,  flattering  defer- 
ence. 

"  Oh,  no  !     I'm  going  off,  right  away." 

"Where?" 

"  To  the  country,  —  to  my  brother's." 

"  Then  you'll  see  my  wife.  I  wrote  her,  but  you'll  see  her 
before  she  gets  my  letter.  Please  tell  her  that  you  met  me, 
and  every  thing  is  all  right :  she  will  understand.  Tell  her, 
too,  that  I  got  my  place  as  member  of  the  Commission  of  — 
JVw,  da!  she  knows  what  that  is,  you  know,  les  petites  mi- 
s&res  cle  la  vie  humaine  "  [the  little  miseries  of  human  life], 
said  he,  turning  to  the  princess,  as  though  in  apology. 
"  Miagkaia,  not  Liza,  but  Bibiche,  sends  a  thousand  guns 
and  twelve  hospital  nurses.  Did  I  tell  you?  " 

"  Yes  :  I  heard  about  it,"  answered  Koznuishef  coldly. 

"But  what  a  pity  you  are  going  away,"  replied  Stepan 
Arkadyevitch.  "  We  give  a  farewell  dinner  to-morrow  to 
two  volunteers,  —  Dimer  Bartuyansky  of  Petersburg,  and 
our  Veslovsky.  Both  are  going.  Veslovsky  is  just  married. 
He's  a  flue  lad.  Isn't  it  so,  princess?  " 

The  princess  did  not  reply,  but  looked  at  Koznuishef.  The 
fact  that  the  princess  and  Sergei  Ivanovitch  evidently  wanted 
to  get  rid  of  him  did  not  in  the  least  disconcert  him.  He. 
went  on  chatting ;  and  as  he  saw  a  lady  going  by  with  a 
subscription-box,  he  beckoned  to  her,  and  handed  her  a  five- 
ruble  note. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  see  these  subscription-boxes  pass  by  me, 
now  that  I  am  flush,"  he  said. 

••\\liatsplendiduews  there  is!  Hurrah  for  the  Monte- 
negrins !  " 

"  What's  that  you  say?"  he  cried,  when  the  princess  told 
him  that  Vronsky  was  going  by  the  first  train.  A  shade  of 
sadness  passed  over  his  merry  face  ;  but  he  soon  forgot  the 
tears  he  had  shed  over  his  sister's  grave,  and  saw  in  Vron- 
sky only  a  hero  and  an  old  friend.  He  hastened  away  to 
find  him. 

"One  must  do  him  justice,  in  spite  of  his  faults,"  said 
the  princess,  when  Stepan  Arkadyevitch  was  gone.  "  He 
has  the  true  Russian,  the  Slavic,  nature.  But  I  am  afraid  it 
will  give  the  count  no  pleasure  to  see  him.  Whatever  people 
may  say,  I  pity  that  unhappy  man.  Try  to  talk  a  little  with 
him  on  the  journey,"  said  the  princess. 

"  Certainly,  if  I  have  a  chance.     I  never  liked  him,   but 


ANNA  EARtfNINA.  731 

what  he  is  doing  now  makes  up  for  much  wrong-doing. 
You  know,  he's  taking  out  a  squadron  of  cavalry  at  his  own 
expense?  " 

The  bell  rang,  and  the  crowd  pressed  towards  the  doors. 

"There  he  is,"  said  the  princess,  pointing  out  Vronsky, 
who  was  dressed  in  a  long  coat  and  a  broad-brimmed  black 
hat.  His  mother  was  leaning  on  his  arm.  Oblousky  fol- 
lowed them,  talking  vivacious^. 

Vronsky  was  frowning,  and  looked  straight  ahead,  as 
though  loath  to  hear  what  Stepan  Arkady evitch  said. 

Apparently  atOblonsky's  suggestion,  he  turned  to  the  side 
where  Sergei  Ivanovitch  and  the  princess  were  standing,  and 
raised  his  hat  silently.  His  face,  which  had  grown  old  and 
worn,  was  like  stone.  He  instantly  disappeared  in  the  train. 

On  the  platform,  men  were  singing  the  national  hymn.1 
Then  hurrahs  and  vivas  resounded.  A  young  volunteer, 
with  a  tall  figure,  stooping  shoulders,  and  an  invalid  air, 
ostentatiously  responded  to  the  public,  waving  above  his  head 
a  felt  hat  and  a  bouquet ;  while  behind  him,  two  officers,  and 
an  elderly  man  in  an  old  cap,  bowed  a  more  modest  farewell. 

After  Koznuishef  had  taken  leave  of  the  princess,  he  and 
Katavasof ,  who  had  just  joined  him,  entered  a  car  which  was 
crowded  with  people  ;  and  the  train  started.  At  the  next 
station,  the  national  hymn,  sung  by  a  choir  of  young  men, 
saluted  the  volunteers,  and  the}"  responded  in  the  same  wa}' ; 
but  these  orations  and  the  type  of  the  volunteers  were  too 
well  known  to  Sergei  Ivanovitch  to  awaken  the  least  curiosity 
in  him.  Katavasof,  on  the  other  hand,  whose  studious  habits 
kept  him  away  from  such  scenes,  was  much  interested,  and 
questioned  his  companion  about  the  volunteers. 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  advised  him  to  look  into  their  car,  and 
talk  with  some  of  them.  At  the  next  station,  Katavasof  fol- 
lowed this  advice.  As  soon  as  the  train  stopped,  he  went 
into  the  second-class  car,  and  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
volunteers.  Some  of  them  were  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  car, 
talking  noisily,  aware  that  they  were  attracting  the  attention 
of  the  other  passengers  and  of  Katavasof.  The  tall,  round- 
shouldered  young  man  was  talking  louder  than  the  others. 
He  was  evidently  very  drunk,  and  was  telling  a  story.  Op- 
posite him  sat  an  old  officer  in  Austrian  uniform.  He  was 
listening  with  a  smile  to  the  narrator,  and  occasionally 
prompting  him.  A  third  volunteer,  in  an  artillery  uniform, 

1  "£o»he  Tsara  Khrani." 


732  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

was  sitting  on  a  box  near  them.  A  fourth  was  asleep.  Ka- 
tavasof  entered  into  conversation  with  the  youth,  and  learned 
that  he  had  been  a  rich  merchant  in  Moscow,  who,  when 
scarcely  twenty-two  years  old,  had  succeeded  in  squandering 
a  considerable  fortune.  Katavasof  did  not  like  him,  because 
he  was  effeminate,  conceited,  and  sickl}r.  He  evidently  felt, 
especially  now  that  he  was  drunk,  that  he  was  doing  a 
heroic  deed  ;  and  he  boasted  in  the  most  disagreeable  manner. 
The  next  officer  also  impressed  Katavasof  unpleasantly ;  he 
had  tried  all  trades  ;  he  had  worked  on  a  railroad,  and  had 
been  director  of  an  estate,  and  had  built  a  factory  ;  and  he 
talked  of  every  thing  without  any  necessity  of  doing  so,  and 
often  used  words  that  showed  his  ignorance. 

The  third,  the  artillery-man,  on  the  contrary,  pleased  Kata- 
vasof very  much  by  his  modesty  and  gentleness.  He  was 
evidently  disgusted  by  the  affected  knowledge  of  the  retired 
officer  and  the  young  merchant's  boasted  heroism,  and  he 
would  say  nothing  about  himself.  When  Katavasof  asked  him 
what  induced  him  to  go  to  Serbia,  he  answered  modestly,  — 

"I'm  going,  like  every  one  else.  We  must  help  the  Ser- 
bians. It  is  too  bad." 

"  Da!    They  have  very  few  artillery-men." 

"  Mr  service  in  the  artillery  was  very  short.  I  may  be 
assigned  to  the  infantry  or  the  cavalry." 

"  Why  in  the  infantry  when  they  need  artillery-men  more 
than  all  ?  ' '  asked  Katavasof. 

"I  did  not  serve  very  long  in  the  artillery,  but  left  the 
service  when  I  was  a  boy."  And  he  began  to  explain  why 
he  had  not  passed  his  examination. 

The  general  impression  which  these  officers  produced  was 
not  very  favorable.  An  elderh"  man  in  a  military  overcoat 
had  been  listening  to  Katavasof 's  talk  with  them,  and  seemed 
scarcely  more  edified.  He  and  the  professor  exchanged 
views.  The  old  man  was  a  soldier  who  had  fought  in  two 
campaigns,  and  he  knew  what  it  meant  to  go  to  war :  and  in 
the  actions  and  words  of  these  gentlemen,  the  bravery  with 
which  they  applied  themselves  to  the  flask,  he  read  their  in- 
feriority as  soldiers.  But  in  the  excitement,  it  would  have 
been  imprudent  to  express  himself  frankly.  When  Kata- 
vasof asked  the  old  soldier  how  the  volunteers  impressed 
him,  a  smile  came  into  his  eyes,  and  he  limited  his  reply  to 
the  remark,  — 

"What  would  you  have?     Somebody  must  go."     And, 


ANNA   KAR&NINA.  733 

without  confiding  to  each  other  their  mutual  opinions  on  this 
subject,  they  talked  over  the  most  recent  war  news,  including 
the  famous  battle  where  the  Turks,  according  to  the  reports, 
were  beaten  at  every  point. 

When  Katavasof  returned  to  his  car,  he  told  Sergei  Ivan- 
ovitch,  with  some  twinges  of  conscience,  that  he  enjoyed 
talking  with  the  volunteers,  and  he  declared  that  they  were 
excellent  lads.  In  the  great  station  where  the}'  next  stopped, 
the  chorus,  the  cheers,  the  bouquets,  and  the  beggars  again 
appeared,  and  again  the  ladies  with  bouquets  took  the  volun- 
teers into  the  restaurant ;  but  there  was  much  less  enthusiasm 
than  there  had  been  at  Moscow. 


IV. 

WHILE  the  train  stopped,  Sergei  Ivanovitch  did  not  go  to 
the  restaurant,  but  walked  up  and  down  the  platform. 

The  first  time  that  he  passed  Vronsky's  compartment,  he 
saw  that  the  blinds  were  down.  When  he  passed  the  second 
time,  he  saw  the  old  countess  at  the  window,  and  she  called 
him. 

"  You  see,  I  am  going  as  far  as  Kursk  with  him." 

"  I  heard  so,"  answered  Koznuishcf,  stopping  at  the  win- 
dow, and  looking  in.  "  What  a  noble  action  on  his  part!  " 
he  added,  seeing  that  Vronsky  was  not  in  the  car. 

"  Da!     What  could  he  do  after  his  misfortune?  " 

"  What  a  horrible  thing  it  was  !  " 

"Ach!  What  have  I  not  been  through  ! —  Da!  Come 
in. —  Ach!  What  have  I  not  been  through!"  she  re- 
peated, as  Serge"  i  Ivanovitch  came  in  and  sat  down  on  the 
sofa  beside  her.  "  You  could  not  imagine  it.  For  six  weeks 
he  never  said  a  word  to  any  one,  and  he  only  ate  because  I 
begged  him.  We  dared  not  leave  him  alone  a  single  instant : 
we  feared  he  would  try  to  kill  himself.  We  lived  on  the  first 
floor,  but  we  had  to  look  out  just  the  same.  You  know  he 
came  near  it  once  before,  for  her  sake.  Yes,"  said  the  old 
countess,  her  face  clouding  at  this  remembrance,  "that  woman 
died  as  was  tit  for  such  a  woman  to  die.  Her  death  was  low 
and  wretched." 

"It  is  not  for  us  to  judge  her,  countess,"  replied  Serge"i 
Ivanovitch,  with  a  sigh.  "  But  1  can  imagine  what  you  have 
suffered." 


734  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

"Aeh!  Don't  speak  of  it!  My  son  was  with  me  at  my 
country-place.  A  note  was  brought  him.  He  answered 
immediately.  We  did  not  know  at  all  that  she  was  at  the 
station.  That  evening  I  had  just  gone  to  my  room,  and  my 
Mary  told  me  that  a  lady  had  thrown  herself  under  the  train. 
I  understood  instantly  what  had  happened :  I  knew  it  must 
be  she.  My  first  words  were,  '  Let  no  one  tell  the  count.' 
But  they  had  just  told  him.  His  coachman  was  at  the  station 
when  it  happened,  and  saw  it  all.  I  ran  to  my  son's  room. 
He  was  like  a  madman  :  it  was  terrible  to  see  him.  Without 
speaking  one  word,  he  left  the  house  ;  and  what  he  found, 
I  do  not  know  ;  but  they  brought  him  back  like  one  dead.  I 
should  never  have  known  him.  '•Prostration  compete,' the 
doctor  said.  Then  he  became  almost  insane.  Ach!  What 
can  be  said?"  cried  the  countess,  waving  her  hands.  "It 
was  a  terrible  time.  No  :  let  people  say  what  they  will,  she 
was  a  bad  woman.  Nu!  What  a  fearful  passion  she  was 
in !  It  was  to  prove  something  or  other  in  an  extraordinary 
way,  and  she  proved  it !  She  has  spoiled  life  for  two  splen- 
did men,  — her  husband  and  my  son,  —  and  ruined  herself." 

"  What  did  the  husband  do? " 

"He  has  taken  the  little  girl.  At  first  Alosha  consented 
to  every  thing :  now  he  repents  having  given  up  his  daugh- 
ter to  a  stranger  ;  but  could  he  take  charge  of  her?  Karc'nin 
went  to  the  funeral,  but  we  succeeded  in  preventing  a  meet- 
ing between  him  and  Alosha.  For  him,  — that  is,  her  hus- 
band, —  this  death  is  a  deliverance  ;  but  my  poor  son  gave  up 
every  thing  for  her,  sacrificed  every  thing. —  me,  his  position, 
his  career,  —  and  she  was  not  contented  with  that,  but  wanted 
to  ruin  him  besides.  No  !  whatever  you  may  say,  her  death 
is  the  death  of  a  bad  woman,  a  woman  without  religion. 
May  God  forgive  me !  but  when  I  think  of  the  harm  she  has 
done  my  son,  I  cannot  help  cursing  her  memory." 
*"  How  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  This  is  our  salvation,  this  Serbian  war.  I  am  old,  don't 
understand  much  about  it ;  but  God  sent  it.  Of  course,  as 
his  mother,  it  is  painful ;  and  besides,  they  say  ce  n'est  pas 
tr&s  bien  vu  &  Petersburg"  [it  is  not  much  approved  of]  ; 
but  what  can  be  done  about  it?  This  one  thing  saved  him. 
Yashvin,  his  friend,  gambled  away  all  he  had,  and  enlisted. 
He  came  to  Alosha,  and  persuaded  him  to  go  to  Serbia  with 
him.  Now  this  is  occupying  him.  Do  talk  with  him,  T  beg 
of  you,  he  is  so  sad.  Da!  and  besides  his  other  troubles, 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  735 

he  has  a  toothache.  But  he  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  Please 
talk  with  him.  He  is  walking  up  and  down  on  the  other  side 
of  the  track." 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  said  that  he  would  be  very  glad  to  talk 
with  the  count,  and  went  over  to  the  side  where  Vronsky 
was. 

V. 

Ix  the  shadow  of  a  heap  of  baggage  piled  on  the  platform, 
Vronsky,  in  his  long  overcoat  and  slouch  hat,  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  was  walking,  like  a  wild  beast  in  a  cage,  up 
and  down  a  narrow  space  where  he  could  not  take  more  than 
a  score  of  steps.  It  seemed  to  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  as  he  drew 
near,  that  he  saw  him,  but  pretended  not  to  recognize  him. 
But  to  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  this  was  all  the  same.  He  stood 
above  any  petty  susceptibility. 

At  tin*  moment,  Vronsky.  in  his  eyes,  was  fulfilling  a  grand 
mission,  and  he  ought  to  be  sustained  and  encouraged.  He 
approached  the  count.  Vronsky  stopped,  looked  at  him, 
recognized  him,  and.  taking  a  few  steps  to  meet  him,  cor- 
dially held  out  his  hand. 

'•  Perhaps  you  would  prefer  not  to  see  me,"  said  Sergei 
Ivanovitch  ;  l'  but  can  I  be  of  any  service  to  you?  " 

"No  one  could  be  less  unpleasant  for  me  to  meet  than 
you,"  answered  Vronsky.  '•  Pardon  me.  There  is  nothing 
pleasant  for  me  in  life." 

"  I  understand,  and  I  want  to  offer  you  my  services,"  said 
Koznuishef,  struck  by  the  deep  suffering  in  the  count's  face. 
'•  Might  not  a  letter  to  Ristitch  or  Milan  be  of  some  use  to 
you?" 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  answered  Vronsky,  making  an  effort  to  un- 
derstand. 4i  If  it  is  all  the  same  to  you,  we  will  walk  a  little. 
It  is  so  close  in  the  cars  !  .A  letter?  No,  thank  you.  Does 
one  need  letters  of  introduction  to  get  one's  self  killed?  In 
this  case,  one  to  the  Turks,  perhaps,"  added  he,  with  a 
smile  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  His  eyes  kept  the  same 
expression  of  bitter  sadness. 

'•  Da!  It  would  make  it  easier  for  you  to  come  into  rela- 
tions with  men  prepared  for  action.  Still,  as  you  please  ; 
but  I  was  very  glad  to  learn  of  your  decision.  The  very 
fact  that  a  man  of  your  standing  has  joined  the  volunteers, 
will  raise  them  above  all  cavil  in  the  public  estimation." 


736  ANNA   KAR1&NINA. 

"  My  sole  merit,"  replied  Vronsky,  "  is,  that  life  is  of  no 
value  to  me.  As  to  phj'sical  energy,  I  know  it  will  not  be 
wanting  for  any  purpose  ;  and  I  am  glad  enough  to  give  my 
life,  which  is  not  only  useless  to  me,  but  disgusting,  to  be 
useful  to  somebody  :  "  and  he  made  an  impatient  motion  of 
his  face,  caused  by  his  unceasing  toothache. 

"You  will  be  born  over  again,  is  my  prediction,"  said 
Sergei  Ivanovitch.  His  feelings  were  touched.  "  The  deliv- 
erance of  one's  oppressed  brethren  is  an  aim  for  which  one 
might  as  well  live  as  die.  May  God  grant  you  full  success, 
and  fill  your  soul  with  peace!"  he  added,  and  held  out  his 
hand. 

Vronsky  pressed  his  hand  cordially. 

"  As  a  field-piece,  I  may  be  of  use.  —  But  as  a  man,  — I 
am  only  a  ruin,"  murmured  the  count,  with  intervals  between 
the  phrases.  The  steady  pain  in  his  tooth  made  it  an 
effort  for  him  to  speak.  He  stopped  ;  and  his  eyes  fixed 
themselves  mechanically  on  the  engine-wheel,  which  ad- 
vanced, revolving  slowly  and  regularly  on  the  rails.  And 
suddenly  another,  not  pain,  but  a  sensation  of  intense  inward 
torture,  caused  him  to  forget  for  a  moment  the  pain  of  his 
tooth.  At  the  sight  of  the  engine  and  the  rails,  through 
the  influence  of  his  talk  with  an  acquaintance  whom  he 
had  not  seen  since  his  grief,  a  sudden  memory  awakened 
in  him.  Instantly  she  appeared  to  him,  or,  at  least,  all 
that  remained  of  her,  when  he  rushed  like  a  maniac  into 
the  freight-house,  where  they  had  carried  her.  There,  on 
a  table,  shamelessl}-  exposed  to  the  sight  of  all,  lay  her 
blood-stained  body,  which  had  so  lately  been  full  of  life. 
Her  head  was  uninjured,  with  its  heavy  braids,  and  its  light 
curls  about  the  temples  ;  it  was  thrown  back :  and  in  the 
lovely  face,  with  half-closed  eyes,  and  her  rosy  lips  parted, 
hovered  still  that  strange  and  wild  expression,  as  though  her 
mouth  were  ready  once  again  to  pronounce  their  terrible 
threat,  and  warn  him,  as  during  their  last  quarrel,  "  that  he 
would  repent." 

And  he  tried  to  remember  how  she  looked  when  he  first 
met  her,  also  at  a  railroad  station,  with  that  mysterious, 
poetic,  chai'ming  beauty,  overflowing  with  life  and  gayety, 
enjoying  and  bestowing  happiness.  But  he  saw  only  her 
face,  haughtily  expressing  her  threat  of  unnecessaty  but  im- 
placable vengeance.  He  tried  to  remember  the  happiest 
moments  that  he  had  spent  with  her,  but  those  joys  of  the 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  737 

past  remained  forever  poisoned.  Sobs  shook  his  whole 
frame. 

After  walking  up  and  down  by  the  baggage  once  or  twice, 
the  count  controlled  himself,  and  spoke  calmly  with  Sergei 
I  vanovitch. 

"Did  you  hear  the  latest  telegrams?  Yes:  they  have 
fought  three  times,  and  probably  there  will  be  another  battle 
to-morrow."  And  after  a  few  words  about  King  Milan's 
proclamation,  and  the  consequences  which  it  might  have, 
the  two  men  separated  at  the  ringing  of  the  bell. 


VI. 

As  Serge" i  Ivanovitch  had  not  known  just  when  it  would  be 
possible  for  him  to  leave  Moscow,  he  did  not  telegraph  his 
brother  to  send  for  him.  Levin  was  not  at  home  when  he 
and  Katavasof,  black  as  negroes  with  smoke  and  dust, 
reached  Pokrovsky  about  noon,  in  a  tarantds  which  they 
hired  at  the  station. 

Kitty  was  sitting  on  the  balcony  with  her  father  and  sister 
when  she  saw  her  brother-in-law  approaching,  and  she  ran 
to  meet  him. 

"Your  conscience  ought  to  prick  you  for  not  letting  us 
know,"  said  she.  shaking  hands  with  Serge"!  Ivanovitch. 

••  We  got  along  splendidly,  and  we  did  not  have  to  bother 
you.  I  am  so  dusty,  that  I  don't  dare  to  touch  you. 
And  here  is  our  friend,  Feodor  Vasilitch,  who  has  come  at 
last." 

"  But  I  am  not  a  negro.  When  I  have  washed,  I  shall 
look  like  a  human  being,"  said  Katavasof,  laughing;  and 
his  white  teeth  gleamed  out  from  his  dusty  face. 

'•  Kostia  will  be  veiy  glad.  He  is  out  ou  the  farm,  but  he 
will  be  back  before  long." 

"  Always  at  his  farming,  while  the  rest  of  us  can  think  of 
nothing  but  the  war  with  Serbia.  Nu  !  how  does  1113-  friend 
regard  this  subject?  he  is  sure  not  to  think  as  other  people 
do." 

"  Yes,  he  does,  — but —  perhaps  not  like  everybody,"  said 
Kitty,  a  little  confused,  looking  at  Sergei  Ivanovitch.  "I 
will  send  some  one  to  find  him.  We  have  papa  with  us  just 
now  :  he  has  come  back  from  abroad.". 

And  the  young  wife,  enjoying  her  power  of  quick  motion, 


738  ANNA 

from  which  she  had  been  so  long  debarred,  hastened  to  make 
her  guests  comfortable,  to  let  her  husband  and  Dolly  know 
of  their  arrival,  and  to  tell  her  father,  who  was  sitting  on 
the  balcony. 

"  It's  Sergei  Ivanovitch  and  Professor  Katavasof." 

"  Och  !  in  this  heat !     It  will  be  terrible  !  " 

"  Not  at  all,  papa :  he  is  very  nice,  and  Kostia  loves  him 
dearly,"  said  Kitty,  laughing  at  the  expression  of  conster- 
nation on  her  father's  face. 

"Go  entertain  them,  diishenka,"  she  said  to  her  sister. 
"They  saw  Stiva  at  the  station:  he  was  well.  And  I  am 
going  to  the  baby  for  a  little  while.  I  actually  have  not 
nursed  him  since  morning:  he  will  be  crying  if  I  don't  go," 
and  she  hurried  to  the  nursery.  She  felt  that  the  baby  was 
needing  her,  and  she  was  not  mistaken.  He  was  crying  at 
the  top  of  his  voice.  She  heard  his  voice,  and  quickened 
her  steps.  But  the  more  she  hurried,  the  louder  he  cried. 
It  was  a  fine,  healthy  scream,  a  scream  of  hunger  and  impa- 
tience. 

"I  am  late,  nurse,  late,"  said  Kitty,  sitting  down,  and 
getting  ready  to  suckle  the  child.  "Da!  give  him  to  me, 
give  him  to  me,  quick.  Ach,  nurse  !  how  stupid  !  Nu!  take 
off  his  cap  afterwards,"  said  she,  quite  as  impatient  as  her 
baby. 

The  baby  screamed  as  though  it  were  famished.  "Da  / 
it  can't  be  helped,  mdtushka,"  said  Agafya  Mikha'ilovna.  who 
could  not  keep  out  of  the  nursery.  "  You  must  do  things 
in  order.  Agu,  agu,"  she  chuckled  to  the  infant,  not  heed- 
ing Kitty's  impatience. 

The  nurse  gave  the  child  to  his  mother.  Agafya  Mikhm- 
lovna  followed  the  child,  her  face  all  aglow  with  tenderness. 

"  He  knows  me  !  He  knows  me  !  God  is  my  witness,  he 
knew  me,  mdtushka  Katerina  Aleksandrovna."  she  cried. 

But  Kitty  did  not  hear  what  she  said.  Her  impatience 
was  as  great  as  the  baby's.  It  hindered  the  very  thing  that 
they  both  desired.  The  bab}-,  in  his  haste  to  suckle,  could 
not  manage  to  take  hold,  and  was  vexed.  At  last,  after  one 
final  shriek  of  despair,  the  arrangements  were  perfected  ;  and 
mother  and  child,  simultaneously  breathing  a  sigh  of  content, 
became  calm. 

"  The  poor  little  thing  is  all  in  a  perspiration,"  whispered 
Kitty.  "Do  you  really  thfnk  he  knew  you?"  she  added, 
looking  down  into  the  child's  eyes,  which  seemed  to  her  to 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  739 

peep  out  roguishly  from  under  his  cap  as  his  little  cheeks 
sucked  in  and  out,  while  his  little  hand,  with  rosy  palm, 
flourished  around  his  head.  "-It  cannot  be.  For,  if  he 
knew  you,  he  would  surely  know  me,"  continued  Kitty,  with 
a  smile,  when  Agafya  Mikhailovna  persisted  in  her  belief  that 
he  knew  her. 

She  smiled,  because,  though  she  said  that  he  could  not 
recognize  her,  yet  she  knew  in  her  heart  that  he  not  only 
recognized  Agafya  Mikhailovna,  but  that  he  knew  and  under- 
stood all  things,  and  knew  and  understood  what  no  one  else 
understood,  and  things  which  she.  his  mother,  was  now  begin- 
ning to  understand,  only  through  his  teaching.  For  Agafya 
Mikhailovna,  for  the  nurse,  for  his  grandfather,  even  for  his 
fatlu-r.  Mitya  was  just  a  little  human  being,  who  needi-d 
nothing  but  physical  care;  for  his  mother,  he  was  a  being 
endowed  with  moral  faculties,  and  she  could  read  the  whole 
history  of  his  spiritual  relationship. 

••  You  will  see  if  he  doesn't  when  he  wakes  up,"  insisted 
the  old  woman. 

'•  XH!  very  well,  very  well,  we  will  see;  now  go  away; 
he  is  going  to  sleep." 

VII. 

AGAFY.V  MIKFIAILOVNA  went  away  on  tiptoe :  the  nurse 
chased  away  the  flies  which  had  been  hidden  under  the  mus- 
lin curtain  of  the  cradle,  and  closed  the  blinds ;  then  she  sat 
down,  and  began  to  wave  a  little  withered  branch  over  the 
mother  and  child. 

••  It's  hot,  hot!  pray  God,  he  may  send  a  little  shower," 
she  said. 

''•Da!  da!  sh-sh-sh,"  was  the  mother's  reply,  as  she 
rocked  gently  to  and  fro,  and  pressed  Mitya  to  her  br.-ast. 
His  eyelids  now  opened,  and  now  closed  ;  and  he  languidly 
moved  his  chubby  arm.  This  little  arm  disturbed  Kitty  :  she 
felt  a  strong  inclination  to  kiss  it,  but  she  feared  to  do  so 
lest  it  should  wake  him.  At  last  the  arm  began  to  droop, 
and  the  eyes  closed  more  and  more.  Only  rarely  now  he 
would  raise  his  long  lashes,  and  gaze  at  his  mother  with  his 
dark,  dewy  eyes.  The  nurse  began  to  nod,  and  dropped  off 
into  a  nap.  Overhead  she  could  hear  the  old  prince's  voice, 
and  Katavasof's  sonorous  laugh. 

"  Evidently,  they  don't  need  me  to  help  in  the  conversa- 


740  ANNA   KAKtiNINA. 

tion,"  thought  Kitty:  "  but  it  is  too  bad  that  Kostia  is  not 
there ;  he  must  have  gone  to  his  bees.  Sometimes  it  dis- 
turbs me  to  have  him  spend  so  much  time  over  them  ;  but 
then,  on  the  whole,  I  am  glad  :  it  diverts  him,  and  he  is  cer- 
tainly more  cheerful  than  he  was  in  the  spring.  At  Moscow, 
he  was  so  blue,  and  such  a  martyr !  What  a  strange  man  he 
is!" 

Kitty  knew  what  caused  her  husband's  disquiet.  It  was 
his  doubting  spirit ;  and  although,  if  she  had  been  asked  if 
she  believed  that  in  the  world  to  come,  he  would  fail  of 
salvation  owing  to  his  want  of  faith,  she  would  have  been 
compelled  to  say  yes,  yet  his  scepticism  did  not  make  her 
unhappy  ;  and  she,  who  believed  that  there  was  no  salvation 
for  the  unbelieving,  and  loved  more  than  all  else  in  the  world 
her  husband's  soul,  smiled  as  she  thought  of  his  scepticism, 
and  called  him  a  strange  man. 

"  Why  does  he  spend  all  his  time  reading  those  philosophi- 
cal books,  which  do  not  help  him  at  all?  He  himself  says 
that  he  longs  for  faith.  Why  doesn't  he  believe?  Probably 
he  thinks  too  much  ;  and  he  thinks  too  much  because  he  is 
lonely.  He  is  always  alone.  He  can't  speak  out  all  his 
thoughts  to  us.  I  think  he  will  be  glad  that  these  guests 
have  come,  especially  Katavasof.  He  likes  to  discuss  with 
him." 

And  immediately  Kitty's  thoughts  were  diverted  by  the 
question  where  it  would  be  best  for  Katavasof  to  sleep. 
Ought  he  and  Sergei  Ivanovitch  to  have  a  room  together,  or 
apart?  And  here  a  sudden  thought  made  her  start  almost 
enough  to  disturb  Mitya. 

"The  washerwoman  hasn't  brought  back  the  linen.  I 
hope  Agafya  Mikhailovna  hasn't  given  out  all  we  had!  " 
and  the  color  rushed  to  Kitty's  forehead. 

"  Da!  I  must  find  out  myself,"  thought  she;  and  she 
began  again  thinking  about  her  husband. 

"Yes,  Kostia  is  a  sceptic,"  again  she  thought,  with  a 
smile.  "  Nu!  he  is  a  sceptic  ;  but  I  love  him  better  so  than  if 
he  were  like  Madame  Stahl,  or  like  me  when  I  was  at  Sodeu. 
He  will  never  be  hypocritical." 

An  instance  of  her  husband's  goodness  came  back  vividly 
to  her  memory.  Several  weeks  before,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch 
had  written  a  letter  of  repentance  to  his  wife.  He  begged 
her  to  save  his  honor  by  selling  her  property  to  pay  his 
debts. 


ANNA   KAEtiNINA.  741 

Dolly  was  in  despair.  She  felt  that  she  hated  her  hus- 
band, —  despised  him  ;  and  at  first  she  made  up  her  mind  to 
refuse  his  request,  and  apply  for  a  divorce :  but  afterwards 
relenting,  she  decided  to  sell  a  part  of  her  estate.  Kitty, 
with  a  smile,  recalled  her  husband's  confusion  when  he  con- 
sulted with  her  in  regard  to  helping  Dolly,  and  how,  at  last, 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  only  way  to  accomplish  it 
without  wounding  her  was  to  make  over  to  Dolly  their  part 
of  this  estate. 

"  How  can  he  be  without  faith,  when  he  has  such  a  warm 
heart,  and  is  afraid  to  grieve  even  a  child?  He  never  thinks 
of  himself,  —  always  of  others.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  finds  it 
perfectly  natural  to  consider  him  his  business  manager :  so 
does  his  sister.  Dolly  and  her  children  have  no  one  else  but 
him  to  lean  upon.  He  is  always  sacrificing  his  time  to  the 
peasants,  Avho  come  to  consult  him  every  day." 

kt  Yes  :  you  cannot  do  better  than  to  try  to  be  like  your 
father,"  she  murmured,  touching  her  lips  to  her  son's  cheek, 
before  laying  him  into  the  nurse's  arms. 


VIII. 

EVER  since  that  moment  when,  as  he  sat  beside  his  dying 
brother,  Levin  had  examined  the  problem  of  life  and  death 
in  the  light  of  the  new  convictions,  as  he  called  them,  which 
from  the  age  of  twenty  to  thirty-four  years  had  taken  the 
place  of  his  childhood's  beliefs,  he  was  terrified  not  only 
at  death,  but  at  life  ;  because  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had 
not  the  slightest  knowledge  of  its  origin,  its  purpose,  its  rea- 
son, its  nature.  Our  organism  and  its  destruction,  the  in- 
destructibility of  matter,  the  laws  of  the  conservation  and 
development  of  forces,  were  words  which  were  substituted 
for  the  terms  of  his  early  faith.  These  words,  and  the  sci- 
entific theories  connected  with  them,  were  doubtless  interest- 
ing from  an  intellectual  point  of  view,  but  they  stood  for 
nothing  in  the  face  of  real  life. 

And  Levin,  like  a  man  who  in  cold  weather  had  exchanged 
his  warm  shuba  for  a  muslin  garment,  felt,  not  with  his  rea- 
son, but  with  his  whole  being,  that  he  was  absolutely  naked, 
and  inevitably  destined  to  perish  miserably. 

From  that  time,  without  in  the  least  changing  his  outward 


742  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

life,  and  though  he  did  not  like  to  confess  it  even  to  himself, 
Levin  never  ceased  to  feel  a  terror  of  his  ignorance. 

More  than  all,  he  felt  with  shame  that  what  he  called  his 
convictions,  not  only  came  from  his  ignorance,  but  were  idle 
for  helping  him  to  a  clearer  knowledge  of  what  he  needed. 

Marriage,  with  its  joys  and  its  new  duties,  completely 
blotted  out  these  thoughts  ;  but  they  came  back  to  him  with 
increasing  persistence  after  his  wife's  confinement,  when  he 
lived  in  Moscow  without  any  serious  occupation. 

The  question  presented  itself  to  him  in  this  way :  "  If  I 
do  not  accept  the  explanations  offered  me  by  Christianity  on 
the  problem  of  my  existence,  where  shall  I  find  others?" 
And  he  scrutinized  the  whole  arsenal  of  his  scientific  con- 
victions, and  found  no  answer  whatsoever  to  his  questions. 

He  was  in  the  position  of  a  man  who  seeks  to  find  food  in 
a  toy-store  or  a  gun-shop. 

Involuntarily  and  unconsciously  he  sought  now  in  every 
book,  in  every  conversation,  and  in  every  person  whom  he 
met,  some  sympathy  with  the  subject  which  absorbed  him. 
More  than  by  any  thing  else,  he  was  surprised  and  puzzled 
by  the  fact  that  the  men  of  his  class,  who  for  the  most  part 
had,  like  himself,  substituted  science  for  religion,  seemed  to 
experience  not  the  least  moral  suffering,  but  to  live  entirely 
satisfied  and  content.  Were  they  not  sincere?  Or  did  sci- 
ence give  to  them  a  clearer  answer  to  these  troublesome  ques- 
tions? And  he  took  to  studying  these  men,  and  the  books 
which  might  contain  the  solutions  which  he  so  desired. 

He  discovered,  however,  that  he  had  made  a  gross  error  in 
taking  up  with  the  idea  of  his  university  friends,  that  religion 
had  outlived  its  day,  and  no  longer  existed.  The  best  peo- 
ple whom  he  knew  were  believers,  —  the  old  prince,  Lvof, 
of  whom  he  was  so  fond,  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  and  all  women, 
had  faith  ;  and  his  wife  believed  just  as  he  had  believed 
when  he  was  a  child,  and  nine-tenths  of  the  Russian  people 
—  all  people  whose  lives  inspired  the  greatest  respect  —  were 
believers. 

Another  strange  thing  was,  that,  as  he  read  many  books, 
he  became  convinced  that  the  materialists  whose  opinions  he 
shared,  did  not  attach  to  these  opinions  any  individual  or 
personal  importance.  They  were  far  from  explaining  these 
questions,  without  an  answer  to  which  life  seemed  to  him 
impossible :  they  threw  these  aside,  to  take  up  others  which 
were  to  him  utterly  uninteresting,  — such,  for  example,  as  the 


ANNA  KAS&NINA.  743 

development  of  the  organism,  the  mechanical  explanation  of 
the  soul,  and  others. 

Moreover,  at  the  time  of  his  wife's  illness,  he  had  a  most 
extraordinary  experience  :  he,  the  unbeliever,  had  prayed, 
and  prayed  with  sincere  faith.  But  as  soon  as  the  danger 
was  over,  he  felt  that  he  could  not  give  that  temporary  dis- 
position any  abiding-place  in  his  life. 

He  could  not  avow  that  the  truth  appeared  to  him  then, 
but  that  he  was  mistaken  now,  because,  as  he  began  calmly  to 
analyze  his  feelings,  they  eluded  him.  He  could  not  avow 
that  he  had  been  deceived  then,  because  he  had  experienced 
a  temporary  spiritual  condition  ;  and  if  lie  pretended  that  he 
had  succumbed  to  a  moment  of  weakness,  he  would  sully  a 
sarivd  moment.  He  was  in  a  sad  state  of  internal  conflict, 
and  he  strove  with  all  the  strength  of  his  nature  to  free 
himself  from  it. 

IX. 

THESE  thoughts  tormented  him  with  varying  intensity,  but 
he  could  not  free  himself  from  them.  He  read  and  medi- 
tated, but  the  end  desired  seemed  to  grow  more  and  more 
remote. 

During  the  latter  part  of  his  stay  in  Moscow,  and  after  he 
reached  the  country,  he  became  convinced  of  the  uselessness 
of  seeking  in  materialism  an  answer  to  his  doubts  ;  and  he 
read  over  the  philosophers  whose  explanations  of  life  were 
opposed  to  materialism. — Plato  and  Spinoza,  and  Kant  and 
Sdu-lling,  and  Hegel  and  Schopenhauer. 

These  satisfied  his  reason  while  he  was  reading,  or  was 
contrasting  their  doctrines  with  those  of  others,  especialby 
with  those  of  a  materialistic  tendency  ;  but  just  as  soon  as 
he  attempted,  independently,  to  apply  these  guides  to  some 
doubtful  point,  he  fell  back  into  the  same  perplexities  as  be- 
foiv.  The  terms  "  mind,"  "  will,"  "  freedom,"  "  essence," 
had  a  certain  meaning  to  his  intellect  as  long  as  he  followed 
the  clew  established  by  the  deductions  of  these  philosophers, 
and  allowed  himself  to  be  caught  in  the  snare  of  their  subtile 
distinctions  :  but.  when  practical  life  asserted  its  point  of 
view,  this  artistic  structure  fell,  like  a  house  built  of  cards  ; 
and  it  became  evident  that  the  edifice  was  built  only  of  beau- 
tiful words,  having  no  more  connection  than  logic  with  the 
serious  side  of  life. 


744  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

Once,  as  he  was  reading  Schopenhauer,  he  substituted  the 
term  "love"  for  that  which  this  philosopher  calls  "will," 
and  this  new  philosophy  gave  him  a  few  days  of  calm.  But 
he  quickly  saw  its  fallaciousness.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  advised 
him  to  read  Khomyakof's  theological  writings  ;  and  though 
he  was  repelled  by  the  excessive  affectation  of  the  author's 
style,  and  his  strong  polemic  tendency,  he  was  struck  by  the 
development  of  the  following  thought:  "Man  when  alone 
cannot  attain  the  knowledge  of  God.  The  true  light  is  kept 
for  a  communion  of  souls  who  are  filled  with  the  same  love ; 
that  is,  for  the  Church."  The  thought  struck  Levin:  How 
much  easier  he  should  find  it  to  accept  the  Church,  endowed 
with  holiness  and  infallibility,  since  it  had  God  for  its  head,  — 
to  accept  its  teachings  as  to  Creation,  the  Fall,  and  Redemp- 
tion, and  through  it  to  reach  God,  —  than  to  fathom  for  him- 
self the  impenetrable  mystery  of  Divinity,  and  to  explain,  in 
turn,  Creation,  the  Fall,  and  the  rest !  But  as  he  read,  after 
Khomyakof,  a  history  of  the  Church  by  a  Catholic  writer, 
and  the  history  of  the  Church  b}'  an  Orthodox  writer,  and 
perceived  that  the  Orthodox  Greek  Church  and  the  Roman- 
Catholic  Church,  both  of  them  in  their  very  essence  infalli- 
ble, were  antagonistic,  he  saw  that  he  had  been  deluded  by 
Khomyakof's  church-teachings ;  and  this  edifice  also  fell 
into  dust,  like  the  constructions  of  philosophy. 

During  this  whole  spring  he  was  not  himself,  and  passed 
hours  of  misery. 

"•  I  cannot  live  without  knowing  what  I  am,  and  why  I 
exist.  Since  I  cannot  reach  this  knowledge,  life  is  impossi- 
ble," said  Levin  to  himself.  "In  the  infinitude  of  time,  in 
the  infinitude  of  matter,  in  the  infinitude  of  space,  an  organic 
cell  is  formed,  exists  for  a  moment,  and  bursts.  That  cell 
is  — I." 

This  was  a  gloomy  sophism  ;  but  it  was  the  sole,  the  su- 
\  preme  result  of  the  labor  of  the  human  mind  for  centuries. 

It  was  the  final  creed  upon  which  were  founded  the  latest 
researches  of  the  scientific  spirit :  it  was  the  dominant  con- 
viction ;  and  Levin,  without  knowing  exactly  why,  simply 
because  this  theory  seemed  to  him  the  clearest,  was  involun- 
tarily held  by  it. 

But  this  conclusion  seemed  more  than  a  sophism.  He  saw 
in  it  the  cruel  jest  of  some  evil  spirit,  —  cruel,  inimical,  to 
which  it  was  impossible  to  submit. 

To  get  away  from  it  was  a  duty :  deliverance  from  it  was 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  745 

in  the  power  of  every  one,  and  the  means  of  deliverance 
svas  —  death. 

And  Levin,  the  happy  father  of  a  family,  a  man  in  perfect 
health,  was  sometimes  so  tempted  to  commit  suicide,  that  he 
hid  ropes  from  sight,  lest  he  should  hang  himself,  and  feared 
to  go  out  with  his  gun,  lest  he  should  shoot  himself.  But 
Levin  did  not  hang  himself,  or  shoot  himself,  but  lived  and 
struggled  on. 

X. 

\VHEN  Levin  puzzled  over  what  he  was,  and  why  he  was 
born,  he  found  no  answer,  and  fell  into  despair;  but  when 
he  set  himself  resolutely  to  work,  he  ceased  to  disquiet 
himself  over  his  ignorance,  and  the  problem  of  existence. 
Therefore,  he  plunged  more  and  more  resolutely  into  the 
life  of  every  day. 

Towards  the  end  of  June  he  returned  to  the  country : 
resumed  his  ordinary  work  at  Pokrovsky.  The  superintend- 
ence of  the  estates  of  his  brother  and  sister,  his  relations 
with  his  neighbors  and* his  muzhiks,  his  family  cares,  his  new 
enterprise  in  bee-culture,  which  he  had  taken  up  this  year, 
occupied  all  his  time.  These  interests  occupied  him,  not 
because  he  carried  them  on  with  a  view  to  their  universal 
application,  as  he  had  done  before  ;  but  he  contented  him- 
self with  fulfilling  his  new  duties  simply  because  it  seemed 
to  him  that  he  was  irresistibly  impelled  to  do  what  he  did, 
and  could  not  do  otherwise. 

Formerly,  when  he  began  to  do  any  thing  that  was  good 
and  useful  for  all,  for  humanity,  for  Russia,  he  saw  that  the 
thought  of  it  gave  him,  in  advance,  a  pleasing  sense  of  joy  ; 
but  the  action  in  itself  never  realized  his  hopes.  But  now, 
since  his  marriage,  he  went  straight  to  the  matter  in  hand  ; 
and.  though  he  had  no  pleasure  at  the  thought  of  his  activity, 
he  felt  a  conviction  that  his  work  was  useful,  and  the  results 
gained  were  far  more  satisfactory  than  before. 

Now,  quite  against  his  will,  he  cut  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  soil,  like  a  plough  that  cannot  choose  its  path,  or  turn 
from  its  furrow. 

To  live  as  his  fathers  and  grandfathers  had  lived,  to  carry 
out  their  work  so  as  to  hand  it  on  in  turn  to  his  children, 
seemed  to  him  a  plain  duty.  It  was  as  necessary  as  the 
duty  of  eating  when  hungry  ;  and  he  knew,  that,  to  reach 


746  ANNA  KAE£NINA. 

this  end,  he  must  leave  his  patrimonial  estate  in  such  a 
condition,  that  his  son,  receiving  it  in  turn,  might  be  as 
grateful  to  him  as  he  was  to  his  ancestors  for  what  they  had 
cleared  and  tilled.  He  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  leave  the 
management  of  his  estates  to  the  muzhiks,  but  that  he  him- 
self must  keep  every  thing  under  his  own  eye,  —  maintain  his 
cattle,  fertilize  his  fields,  set  out  trees. 

It  was  as  impossible  not  to  look  out  for  the  interests  of 
Serg6i  Ivanovitch  and  his  sister,  and  all  the  peasants  who 
came  to  consult  him,  as  it  was  to  abandon  the  child  who  had 
been  given  into  his  hands.  He  must  give  his  sister-in-law 
and  her  children  his  protection  and  sympathy,  and  his  wife 
had  a  claim  upon  his  time.  And  all  these  duties  filled  to 
overflowing  his  life,  the  meaning  of  which  he  could  not  un- 
derstand when  he  reflected  on  it. 

Not  only  did  Levin  see  clearly  what  it  was  his  duty  to  do, 
but  he  saw  how  he  must  fulfil  it,  and  what  had  paramount 
importance. 

Thus  he  did  not  hesitate  to  hire  laborers  as  cheaply  as 
possible,  but  he  knew  he  was  bound  to  pay  them  neither 
above  nor  below  the  market-price,  lie  advanced  money  to 
Piotr,  to  save  him  from  the  claws  of  a  money-lender,  who 
charged  him  ten  per  cent  a  month  ;  but  he  made  no  allow- 
ance for  arrears  of  rent.  He  punished  severely  thefts  of 
wood,  but  he  would  have  scrupled  to  impound  a  peasant's 
cattle  caught  in  the  very  act  of  pasturing  on  his  fields.  He 
stopped  the  wages  of  a  laborer,  compelled,  by  the  death  of 
his  father,  to  quit  work  in  mid-harvest,  just  as  though  he 
had  no  pity  for  him  ;  but  he  gave  board  and  lodging  to  old 
servants  who  were  superannuated. 

Levin  felt  that  it  was  right,  on  returning  home,  to  go  first 
to  his  wife,  who  was  not  well,  though  some  muzhiks  had 
been  waiting  for  three  hours  to  see  him  ;  but  he  would  not 
have  been  willing  to  go  to  his  bee-hives  before  receiving 
them. 

Whether  he  did  well  or  ill,  he  did  not  know ;  and  he  not 
only  did  not  tiy  to  prove  it,  but  he  even  avoided  all  thoughts 
and  discussions  on  the  subject.  When  he  reasoned,  he 
doubted,  and  could  not  see  what  it  was  right  to  do,  or  not  to 
do.  When  he  ceased  to  consider,  but  simply  lived,  he  never 
failed  to  find  in  his  soul  an  uncompromising  judge,  which 
told  him  what  was  the  best  course  to  take,  and  which  was 
the  worst ;  and  when  he  failed  to  follow  this  inner  voice,  he 
always  felt  it. 


ANNA  KAEtiNINA.  747 

Thus  he  lived,  not  knowing,  and  not  seeing  the  possibility 
of  knowing,  what  he  was,  or  why  he  lived  in  the  world,  and 
tortured  by  his  ignorance  to  the  point  of  fearing  suicide  ; 
:ui(l  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  resolutely  pursued  the  path  of 
life  which  had  been  marked  out  for  him. 


XI. 

THE  day  on  which  Sergei  Ivanovitch  reached  Pokrovsky 
had  been  full  of  torment  for  Levin. 

It  was  at  that  hurried,  busy  season  of  the  year  when  all 
the  peasantry  are  engaged  in  putting  forth  an  extraordinary 
effort,  and  showing  an  endurance,  which  are  quite  unknown 
in  the  ordinary  conditions  of  their  lives,  and  which  would  be 
prized  very  highly  if  it  were  not  repeated  every  year,  and 
did  not  produce  such  very  simple  results.  Digging,  sowing, 
mowing,  reaping,  harvesting,  threshing, — these  are  labors 
which  seem  simple  and  commonplace  ;  but  to  accomplish  them 
in  the  short  time  accorded  by  nature,  every  one,  old  and 
young,  must  set  to  work.  For  three  or  four  weeks  they 
must  be  content  with  the  simplest  fare,  —  black  bread, 
garlic,  and  kvas ;  must  sleep  only  a  few  hours,  and  must 
not  pause  night  or  day.  And  every  year  this  happens 
throughout  all  Russia. 

Having  lived  the  larger  part  of  his  life  in  the  country,  and 
in  the  closest  relations  with  the  peasantry,  Levin  always  at 
harvest-time  felt  that  this  universal  activity  among  the  peo- 
ple embraced  his  own  life. 

He  went  to  the  field  in  the  early  morning,  came  back  to 
breakfast  with  his  wife  and  sister-in-law,  and  then  returned 
to  the  farm,  where  he  was  trying  a  new  threshing-machine. 

This  whole  day,  Levin,  as  he  talked  with  the  pr/A:a67ic/a'A; 
and  the  muzhiks  in  the  field,  as  he  talked  at  the  house  with 
his  wife  and  Dolly  and  the  children  and  his  father-in-law, 
thought  of  only  one  thing ;  and  constantly  the  same  ques- 
tions pursued  him,  —  "What  am  I?  and  where  am  I?  and 
why  am  I  here  ?  ' ' 

Standing  near  the  newly  thatched  barn,  he  watched  the 
dust,  thrown  off  by  the  threshing-machine,  flying  in  the  air, 
and  the  chaff  settling  down  on  the  sunny  grass,  while  the 
swallows  took  refuge  under  the  roof,  and  the  laborers  hurried 


748  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

about  in  the  sombre  interior  of  the  barn ;  and  this  strange 
idea  came  into  his  head  :  — 

"  Why  is  all  this  done  ?  "  thought  he.  "  Why  am  I  stand- 
ing here  superintending  these  people?  and  they,  why  are 
they  doing  their  best  in  my  presence  ?  Why  is  my  old  friend 
Matrona  raking  there  ?  I  cured  her  when  a  beam  fell  on  her 
at  the  fire,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  looked  at  a  hideous  old 
buba,  who  was  walking  with  bare,  sunburned  feet  across  the 
hard,  uneven  soil,  and  was  plying  the  rake  vigorously.  "  She 
got  well  then.  But  if  not  to-day  or  to-morrow,  then  in  ten 
years  she  must  be  borne  to  her  grave,  and  there  will  be  noth- 
ing left  of  her,  nor  of  that  pretty  girl  in  red,  who  is  husking 
corn  with  such  graceful,  swift  motions.  They  will  bury  her. 
And  that  dappled  horse  will  soon  die,"  he  thought,  as 
he  looked  at  the  muzzled  horse  breathing  painfully,  and 
struggling  up  the  ever-descending  treadmill.  "They  will 
carry  him  off.  And  Feodor,  the  machine-tender,  with  his 
full,  curling,  silky  beard,  they  will  carry  him  off  too.  But 
now  he  gathers  up  the  sheaves,  and  gives  his  commands,  and 
shouts  to  the  babiti,  and,  with  quick  motions,  stirs  up  the  old 
horse  on  the  treadmill.  And  it  will  be  the  same  with  me. 
Why?"  And,  in  the  midst  of  his  meditations,  he  mechani- 
cally took  out  his  watch  to  see  how  many  hours  they  had 
been  threshing.  It  was  his  duty  to  do  this,  so  that  he  could 
pay  the  men  fairly  for  their  day's  work. 

"So  far,  only  three  ricks,"  he  said  to  himself;  and  he 
went  to  the  machine-tender,  and,  trying  to  make  his  voice 
heard  above  the  racket,  told  him  to  work  faster. 

Feodor,  his  face  covered  with  dust  and  sweat,  shouted 
back  some  unintelligible  reply  ;  but  Levin  felt  disgusted. 

He  mounted  the  drum,  took  Feodor's  place,  and  began  to 
do  the  feeding. 

He  worked  thus  till  it  was  the  muzhiks'  dinner-hour ;  and 
then,  in  company  with  Feodor,  he  left  the  grange,  and  talked 
with  him,  leaning  against  a  beautifully  stacked  pile  of  yellow 
wheat  saved  for  planting. 

Feodor  was  from  a  distant  village,  the  very  one  where 
Levin  had  formerly  let  the  association  have  some  land.  Now 
it  was  rented  to  the  dvornik. 

Levin  talked  with  Feodor  about  this  land,  and  asked  him 
if  it  were  not  possible  that  Platon,  a  rich  and  trustworthy 
muzhik  of  his  village,  would  take  it  for  the  next  year. 

"  Price  too  high ;    won't  catch  Platon,  Konstautin  Dmi- 


ANNA  KARtfNINA.  749 

tritch,"  replied  the  muzhik,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  neck 
with  a  corn-husk. 

"  Da!  how  does  Kirillof  pay  it?" 

"  Mitiukh  "  — so  Feodor  called  the  dvorniJc — "  does  just 
as  he  pleases.  He  has  no  pity  on  the  peasants.  But  uncle 
Fokauuitch,"  —  so  he  called  the  starik  Platon,  —  "does  he 
try  to  skin  a  man?  Where  any  one  owes  him,  he  gives  trust. 
He  does  not  try  to  get  it  from  'em.  He's  that  kind  of  a 
man!" 

"  Da!    Why  does  he  give  trust?  " 

"Men  differ.  One  lives  for  his  belly,  like  Mitiukh ;  but 
Fokanuitch,  —  he's  an  honest  man,  —  he  lives  for  his  soul. 
He  remembers  God." 

•'  What  do  you  call  living  for  the  soul,  and  remembering 
God?"  exclaimed  Levin  eagerly. 

"  Why,  that's  plain  enough.  It's  to  live  according  to 
God  —  according  to  truth.  Here's  different  people.  Take 
you,  Konstantin  Dmitritch,  for  example :  you  couldn't 
wrong  poor  people." 

"Yes,  yes;  proshchcCi"  [good-by],  stammered  Levin, 
deeply  moved  ;  and,  taking  his  cane,  he  turned  towards  the 
house.  "  Fokanuitch  lived  for  his  soul,  according  to  God  — 
according  to  truth."  The  muzhik's  words  found  an  echo  in 
his  heart ;  and  confused  but  weighty  thoughts  arose  within 
him  from  some  hidden  source,  and  filled  his  soul  with  their 
brilliant  light. 

XII. 

LEVIN  strode  along  the  highway,  not  only  filled  with  his 
thoughts,  —  for  he  could  not  entirely  get  rid  of  them,  —  but 
also  under  the  swaj"  of  a  spiritual  impulse,  such  as  he  had 
never  known  before. 

The  peasant's  words  had  had  in  his  soul  the  effect  of  an 
electric  spark,  suddenly  condensing  the  cloud  of  dim,  inco- 
herent thoughts,  which  had  not  ceased  to  fill  his  mind,  even 
while  he  was  talking  of  the  letting  of  his  field. 

He  felt  that  some  new  impulse,  inexplicable  as  yet,  filled 
his  heart  with  joy. 

"Not  to  live  for  one's  self,  but  for  God !     What  God? 
\  Could  he  have  said  what  he  did  without  meaning  it?    He  said 
'  that  we  must  live,  not  for  ourselves,  that  is,  for  what  inter- 
ests and  pleases  us,  but  for  God,  whom  no  one  knows  or  can 


750  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

define.  Still,  call  it  nonsense,  didn't  I  once  understand 
what  Feodor  meant?  Didn't  I  also  feel  convinced  of  its 
truth?  Did  I  find  it  either  false  or  absurd?  Nay:  I  used 
to  understand,  and  find  in  it  the  same  meaning  that  he  finds, 
and  understood  it  more  completely  and  clearly  than  any 
thing  else  in  life.  Feodor  says  Kirillof,  the  dvornik,  lives 
for  his  belly.  I  know  what  he  means  by  that.  We  all, 
rational  beings,  all  of  us  live  in  the  same  way.  But  Feodor 
says,  too,  that  it  is  wrong  to  live  for  the  belly,  but  that  we 
should  live  for  truth,  for  God  ;  and  I  know  what  that  means 
as  well.  I,  and  millions  of  men,  muzhiks  and  sages,  in 
the  past  and  in  the  present,  we  are  in  accord  on  one 
point ;  and  that  is,  that  we  should  live  for  '  the  good.'  The 
only  knowledge  that  I  and  all  men  possess  that  is  clear,  in- 
dubitable, absolute,  is  here.  It  is  not  by  reason  that  we 
have  reached  it.  Reason  excludes  it,  for  it  has  neither  cause 
nor  effect.  'The  good,'  if  it  had  a  cause,  would  cease  to 
be  the  good  :  if  it  had  an  effect  —  a  reward  —  it  would  cease 
to  be  the  good.  I  know  this  ;  we  all  know  it :  and  yet  I 
have  been  waiting  for  a  miracle  to  convince  me  of  it.  Here 
it  is,  the  miracle,  —  the  one  and  only  possible  existence,  sur- 
rounding me  on  every  side,  and  yet  I  have  not  noticed  it. 
Can  there  be  greater  miracle  than  this? 

"  Have  I  really  found  the  solution  of  my  doubts?  Shall 
I  cease  to  suffer?"  And  Levin  followed  the  dusty  road, 
insensible  to  weariness  and  heat,  and  feeling  that  his  long 
travail  was  at  an  end.  The  sensation  was  so  delightful,  that 
he  could  not  believe  that  it  was  true.  He  choked  with  emo- 
tion ;  his  strength  failed  him  ;  and  he  left  the  high  road,  and 
went  into  the  woods,  and  sat  down  under  the  shadow  of  an 
aspen  on  the  uniuown  grass.  He  uncovered  his  moist  fore- 
head, and  stretched  himself  out  on  the  succulent  wood-grass, 
and  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand. 

"Yes,  I  must  reflect  and  consider,"  he  thought,  looking 
attentively  at  the  motionless  grass,  and  watching  the  move- 
ments of  an  earth-beetle  crawling  up  the  stalk  of  couch-grass, 
and  stopped  by  a  leaf .  "Everything  has  its  beginning," 
he  said  to  himself,  removing  the  leaf  from  the  beetle's  wav, 
and  bending  down  another  stalk  of  couch-grass  to  help  the 
beetle  on.  "What  makes  me  so  happy?  What  discovery 
have  I  made?" 

"I  used  to  say  that  there  was  going  on  in  my  body,  iu 
the  body  of  this  grass,  in  the  body  of  this  beetle,  —  the' 


ANNA  KAB&NINA.  751 

beetle  did  not  want  to  go  to  the  other  stalk,  but  spread  its 
wings,  and  flew  away, — incessant  change  of  matter,  in  con- 
formity to  certain  physical,  chemical,  and  physiological  laws  ; 
and  in  all  of  us,  together  with  the  aspens  and  the  clouds, 
and  the  nebulae,  there  was  evolution.  Evolution  from  what? 
into  what?  Endless  evolution  and  conflict. —  But  was 
conflict  with  the  Infinite  possible?  And  I  was  surprised 
to  find  nothing  along  this  line,  in  spite  of  my  best  efforts, 
which  could  reveal  to  me  the  meaning  of  my  life,  my  mo- 
tives, my  longings.  But  the  consciousness  that  there  is  a 
meaning  is,  nevertheless,  so  strong  and  clear,  that  it  forms 
the  very  foundation  of  my  existence  ;  and  I  marvelled  and 
rejoiced  when  the  muzhik  said,  '  To  live  for  God,  for  the 
soul.' 

"  I  have  discovered  nothing :  I  have  simply  opened  my 
eyes  to  what  I  knew  already.  I  have  simply  come  to  the 
recognition  of  that  Power  which  formerly  gave  me  life,  and 
which  gives  me  life  again  to-day.  I  am  freed  from  error  :  I 
recognize  my  master." 

He  went  over  in  memory  the  course  of  his  thought  for 
the  last  two  years,  from  the  day  when  the  idea  of  death 
struck  him,  on  seeing  his  beloved  brother  hopelessly  sick. 
Then  he  had  clearly  resolved,  that  since  man  had  no  other 
prospect  than  suffering,  death,  and  eternal  oblivion,  he  must 
either  commit  suicide,  or  find  the  explanation  of  the  problem 
of  existence,  and  in  such  manner  as  to  see  in  it  something 
more  than  the  cruel  irony  of  a  malevolent  spirit.  But  he 
had  succeeded  in  explaining  nothing.  He  had  not  killed  him- 
self :  he  had  married,  and  had  experienced  new  joys,  which 
made  him  happy  when  he  did  not  ponder  on  the  meaning  of 
life.  What  did  this  mean  ?  It  meant  that  he  was  thinking 
badly,  and  living  well.  Without  knowing  it,  he  had  been 
sustained  by  those  spiritual  verities  which  he  had  sucked  in 
with  his  mother's  milk,  which  his  intellect  had  misconstrued. 
Now  it  was  clear  to  him  that  he  could  live  only  through 
the  blessed  influence  of  the  faith  in  which  he  had  been 
taught. 

"  What  should  I  have  been,  how  should  I  have  lived,  if  I 
had  not  absorbed  these  beliefs,  —  if  I  had  not  known  that 
I  must  live  for  God,  and  not  for  the  satisfaction  of  my  de- 
sires? I  should  have  been  a  thief,  a  liar,  a  murderer.  Noth- 
ing of  what  seems  the  chief  joy  of  my  life  would  have  had 
any  existence  for  me." 


752  ANNA  KARfiNINA. 

And  he  began  to  try  to  imagine  what  he  might  have  been, 
if  he  had  not  really  known  the  aim  of  his  existence. 

"  I  was  in  search  of  a  solution  which  thought  could  not 
reach,  for  the  problem  was  too  lofty.  Life  itself,  with  the 
innate  knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  alone  could  give  me  an 
answer.  And  this  knowledge  I  did  not  acquire.  It  was 
given  to  me,  like  all  the  rest ;  given,  I  could  not  know  where 
to  get  it.  Did  I  get  it  from  reason?  But  would  reason 
ever  have  proved  to  me  that  I  ought  to  love  my  neighbor, 
instead  of  choking  him?  I  was  taught  it  in  my  childhood  ; 
but  I  believed  it  gladly,  because  it  was  already  existent  in 
my  soul.  Reason  discovered  the  struggle  for  existence,  — 
that  law  which  demands  the  overthrow  of  eveiy  obstacle  in 
the  way  of  our  desires.  That  is  the  result  of  reason  ;  but 
reason  has  nothing  to  do  with  loving  our  neighbor. 

"  Da!  it  is  pride,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  rolled  over  on 
his  stomach,  and  began  to  tie  the  stalks  of  grass  into  a  knot, 
trying  not  to  break  them. 

"  And  not  only  the  pride  of  the  intellect,  but  folly  of 
intellect!  But  worse  than  that  —  wickedness  of  intellect, 
—  abominable  wickedness  of  intellect,"  he  repeated. 


XIII. 

LEVIN  remembered  a  recent  scene  between  Dolly  and  her 
children.  The  children  had  been  left  alone,  and  had  amused 
themselves  by  boiling  the  raspberry  shrub,  and  making  a 
fountain  of  milk  with  their  mouths.  Their  mother,  catching 
them  in  the  act,  tried  to  impress  on  them,  in  their  uncle's 
presence,  how  much  work  was  involved  in  what  they  were 
destroying  ;  that  the  labor  was  performed  for  their  benefit ; 
that  if  they  broke  the  cups,  they  couldn't  take  their  tea  ;  and 
if  they  wasted  their  milk,  they  wouldn't  have  any  more,  and 
would  be  hungry. 

Levin  was  struck  by  the  indifference  and  scepticism  with 
which  the  children  heard  their  mother's  words.  They  were 
only  sorry  to  have  their  interesting  sport  interrupted,  and 
they  did  not  believe  a  word  of  what  she  said.  The}'  did  not 
believe,  because  they  did  not  know  the  value  of  what  they 
were  playing  with,  and  did  not  understand  that  they  were 
destroying  their  own  means  of  subsistence. 

"  *  That  is  well  enough,'  they  thought ;  '  but  there  is  nothing 


ANNA  KAR&NINA.  753 

interesting  or  worth  while  in  it,  because  it  is  always  the  same, 
and  always  will  be.  And  it  is  monotonous.  We  don't  have 
to  think  about  it,  it  is  all  ready  :  but  we  do  need  to  get  up 
something  new  and  exciting  ;  and  here  we  were  making  candy 
iu  a  cup  over  the  candle,  and  squirting  the  milk  into  each 
other's  mouth.  It  is  fun.  It  is  new,  aud  not  half  as  stupid 
as  to  drink  milk  out  of  a  cup.' 

"  Isn't  that  the  way  we  do,  isn't  that  the  way  1  do,  in  trying 
to  penetrate  the  secrets  of  nature  and  the  problem  of  human 
life  by  reason?  Don't  all  the  theories  of  philosophy  do  the 
same  thing,  and  lead  by  strange  paths  to  the  simple  knowl- 
edge that  the}7  all  possess,  and  without  which  they  could  not 
live?  We  see  clearly,  in  all  the  different  theories  of  every 
philosopher,  that  the  true  meaning  of  human  life  is  as  indu- 
bitably known  as  it  is  known  to  Veodorthe  muzhik ;  and  don't 
they  all  come  back  to  this,  even  though  it  be  by  an  uncertain 
intellectual  path  ?  Nu  —  kn  !  leave  the  children  to  get  their 
own  living,  make  their  own  utensils,  do  the  milking.  Would 
they  play  tricks?  they  would  die  of  hunger.  2fu  —  ka!  give 
us  over  to  our  own  ideas  and  passions,  with  no  knowledge 
of  our  Creator,  without  the  consciousness  of  moral  good 
and  evil,  and  what  would  be  the  result?  We  reason  because 
we  are  spiritually  satiated.  We  are  children.  Here  arn  I,  a 
Christian,  brought  up  in  the  faith,  surrounded  by  the  bless- 
ings of  Christianity,  living  upon  these  spiritual  blessings  with- 
out being  conscious  of  them  ;  and  like  children  I  have  been 
reasoning,  or  at  least  trying  to  reason,  out  the  meaning  of  life. 

"  But  in  the  hour  of  suffering,  just  as  when  children  are 
cold  and  hungry,  I  turn  to  Him,  and,  like  these  same  chil- 
dren whom  their  mother  reprimands  for  their  childish  faults, 
I  feel  that  my  childish  efforts  to  get  out  of  the  mad  circle  of 
reason  ing  have  done  me  no  good. 

"  Yes,  reason  has  taught  me  nothing.  What  I  know  has 
been  given,  revealed  to  me  through  the  heart,  and  especially 
through  faith  in  the  teachings  of  the  Church. 

'•  The  Church,  the  Church?  "  repeated  Levin,  turning  over 
again,  and,  as  he  rested  his  head  on  his  hand,  looking  at  a 
herd  of  cattle  down  by  the  river  at  a  distance.  "Can  I 
really  believe  all  that  the  Church  teaches?"  said  he  to  test 
himself,  and  to  bring  up  every  thing  that  might  destroy  his 
present  feeling  of  security.  He  expressly  called  to  mind  the 
church  teachings  which  more  than  all  had  seemed  strange 
to  him,  and  disgusted  him. 


754  ANNA   KARfiNINA. 

^ 

"  Creation?  Yes,  but  how  did  T  myself  explain  existence? 
existence?  the  Devil?  sin?  How  did  I  explain  evil?  re- 
demption?" 

And  now  it  seemed  to  him  that  no  one  of  these  church 
dogmas  seem  inimical  to  the  great  objects  of  life,  —  faith  in 
\  God,  in  goodness.  On  the  contrary,  all  tended  to  produce 
that  greatest  of  miracles,  that  which  consists  in  enabling  the 
whole  world,  with  its  millions  of  human  beings,  young  and 
old,  the  muzhik  and  Lvof,  and  Kitty  and  peasants  and  tsars, 
married  and  single,  to  comprehend  the  same  great  truths, 
so  as  to  live  that  life  of  the  soul  which  alone  is  worth  living, 
and  which  is  our  only  aim. 

Lying  on  his  back,  he  looked  up  into  the  high,  cloudless 
sky.  "  Do  I  not  know,"  thought  he,  "  that  that  is  infinity 
of  space,  and  not  a  vault  of  blue  stretching  above  me?  But, 
however  I  strain  my  sight,  I  can  see  only  a  vaulted  dome ; 
and,  in  spite  of  my  knowledge  of  infinite  space,  I  have  more 
'  satisfaction  in  looking  at  it  as  a  blue,  vaulted  dome,  than 
when  I  try  to  look  beyond." 

Levin  stopped  thinking.  He  listened  to  the  mysterious 
voices  which  seemed  to  wake  joyfully  in  him.  "Is  it  really 
faith?"  he  thought,  fearing  to  believe  in  his  happiness. 
"  My  God,  I  thank  thee !  "  he  cried;  and  he  swallowed 
down  the  sobs  that  arose,  and  brushed  away  with  both  hands 
the  tears  that  filled  his  eyes. 


XIV. 

LEVIN  looked  awa}-,  and  saw  the  herd,  and  his  one-horse 
telyfya  and  his  driver,  who  approached  the  herd  of  cattle,  and 
began  to  talk  to  the  herdsman.  Then  he  heard  the  sound 
of  wheels  and  the  neighing  of  the  horse  ;  but  he  was  so  occu- 
pied with  his  thoughts,  that  he  did  not  think  why  it  was  that 
his  coachman  was  coming  for  him.  He  only  realized  it  when 
the  coachman,  while  still  some  distance  off,  cried,  "The 
barufna  sent  for  you.  Your  brother  and  another  barin  have 
come." 

Levin  got  in  at  once,  and  took  the  reins,  as  though  awak- 
ened from  sleep.  It  was  long  before  he  could  collect  his 
thoughts.  He  looked  at  the  well-fed  horse,  and  at  the  spot 
on  his  neck  where  the  harness  rubbed ;  and  he  looked  at 
Ivan,  the  coachman,  sitting  beside  him  ;  and  he  thought  of 


ANNA  KAKfiNINA.  755 

how  he  had  been  expecting  his  brother,  and  that  his  wife 
had  perhaps  been  disturbed  by  his  long  absence  ;  and  he 
began  to  wonder  who  the  unknown  guest  was  who  had  come 
with  his  brother,  and  these  friends  appeared  to  him  different 
from  what  they  had  been  before.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his 
relations  with  all  men  had  become  more  friendly.  "Now 
there  will  be  no  more  coldness  such  as  used  to  be  between  my 
brother  and  me,  — no  more  disputes.  There  will  be  no  more 
quarrels  with  Kitty.  I  shall  be  cordial  to  my  guest,  whoever 
he  may  be,  and  kind  to  the  servants,  and  to  Ivan,  —  all  will 
be  different."  And  holding  in  the  horse,  who  was  eager  to 
break  into  a  run,  he  tried  to  think  of  something  to  say  to 
Ivan,  who  was  sitting  motionless  near  him,  not  knowing  what 
to  do  with  his  idle  hands. 

"  Better  keep  to  the  left,  to  clear  that  tree,"  said  Ivan  at 
this  moment,  touching  the  reins  which  his  master  held. 

"Have  the  goodness  to'leave  me  alone,  and  not  give  me 
lessons,"  answered  Levin,  exasperated,  as  he  always  was,  at 
interference  with  his  affairs.  As  he  spoke,  he  saw  that  his 
new  moral  condition  had  not  changed  his  character.  Just  be- 
fore they  arrived,  he  saw  Grisha  and  Tauia  running  towards 
him. 

"  Uncle  Kostia  !  Mamma  and  grandpapa  and  Sergei  Ivan- 
uitch,  and  some  one  else,  are  coming  to  meet  you  !  " 

"Da!    Who  is  it?" 

"A  horrid  man,  who  does  so  with  his  arms,"  said  Tania, 
jumping  into  the  telytya,  and  imitating  Katavasof. 

"Da!  Old,  or  young?"  asked  Levin,  smiling,  and  re- 
minded of  some  one  by  Tania's  performance. 

"  Ach!     I  hope  he  isn't  a  bore,"  thought  he. 

At  a  turn  of  the  road  he  met  Katavasof,  in  a  straw  hat, 
walking  in  front  of  the  others,  and  throwing  his  arms  about, 
as  Tania  had  said. 

Katavasof  was  very  fond  of  talking  philosophy,  his  con- 
ceptions of  which  were  drawn  from  the  exact  natural  sci- 
ences ;  and  Levin  had  often  had  discussions  with  him  at 
Moscow.  Sometimes  Katavasof  made  it  evident  that  he 
counted  himself  victorious.  Levin  remembered  one  of  these 
discussions,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  not  to  express  his  views 
so  carelessly  in  future.  Leaping  from  the  telytya,  and  join- 
ing Katavasof  and  his  brother,  he  asked  where  his  wife  was. 

"  She  has  gone  to  the  Kolok  woods  with  Mitya,"  answered 
Dolly.  "  She  found  it  too  hot  m  the  house." 


756  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

Levin  always  disapproved  of  taking  the  child  to  the  woods, 
and  he  felt  extremely  vexed  to  hear  about  it. 

"  She  carries  that  son  of  hers  from  pillar  to  post,"  said 
the  old  prince.  "  I  told  her  she'd  better  try  the  ice-house." 

"  She  wanted  to  go  to  the  beehives.  She  thought  you 
were  there,"  added  Dolly.  "  That  is  where  we  were  going." 

"Nu!  What  have  you  been  doing  that's  good?"  said 
Sergei  Ivanovitch,  dropping  behind  the  others,  and  walking 
with  his  brother. 

"  Da!  Nothing  particular  ;  as  usual,  busy  with  the  farm- 
ing [khozyfcistvo'] .  You'll  stay  with  us  a  while,  now?  We've 
been  expecting  you  a  long  time." 

"Only  a  fortnight.  I  have  a  great  deal  to  do  at  Mos- 
cow." 

At  these  words  the  two  brothers  looked  at  one  another, 
and  Levin  dropped  his  eyes.  He  intended  to  be  on  especially 
friendly  terms  with  his  brother,  and  not  let  any  thing  dis- 
turb the  simple  and  cordial  relations  that  he  wished  to  main- 
tain with  Sergei  Ivanovitch.  He  did  not  kno.w  what  to  say. 
He  wanted  to  avoid  the  Serbian  Avar  and  the  Slavic  question, 
which  had  caused  unpleasant  discussions  while  at  Moscow. 
Finally,  he  asked  him  how  his  book  was  getting  on. 

"Nu!     Was  your  book  reviewed ?"  Koznuishef  smiled. 

u  No  one  thinks  any  thing  about  it,  —  I,  least  of  all,"  he 
said.  "  You  see,  Darya  Aleksandrovna,  we're  going  to  have 
a  shower,"  he  added,  pointing  to  the  white  clouds  which 
were  piling  up  above  the  aspen-tops.  It  was  evident  by 
these  words,  that  the  relationship  between  the  brothers,  which 
Levin  wanted  to  overcome,  was  just  the  same  as  of  old,  —  if 
not  unfriendly,  at  least  cool. 

Levin  approached  Katavasof.  "  How  good  it  was  of  you 
to  come  to  us !  "  said  he. 

"  I  have  wanted  to  come  for  a  long  time.  Now  we  shall 
have  time  to  talk.  Have  you  read  Spencer?  " 

"  Not  thoroughly.     I  don't  get  any  thing  out  of  him." 

"  How  so?  he  is  interesting.     You  surprise  me  !  " 

"  I  have  definitely  made  up  my  mind  that  the  answers  to 
certain  questions  that  interest  me  are  not  to  be  found  in  him 
or  his  followers.  Now  "  — 

But  he  was  suddenly  struck  by  the  pleasant  and  serene 
expression  of  Katavasof's  face,  and  he  felt  sorry  that  he 
had  expressed  himself  so  strenuously  when  he  had  resolved 
not  to  be  dragged  into  discussion.  He  added,  "  However,  we 


ANNA  KARtiNINA.  757 

will  talk  about  that  by  and  by.  If  wo  are  going  to  the 
apiary,  let  us  go  down  through  the  path." 

He  led  the  way  through  a  narrow  path  by  a  field  that  had 
not  been  mown,  and  established  his  guests,  who  were  afraid 
of  the  bees,  under  the  shade  of  some  young  aspens,  on 
benches  that  were  placed  there  for  the  purpose  of  receiving 
some  beehives.  He  himself  went  after  bread,  honey,  and 
cucumbers,  to  the  izba  that  stood  not  far  from  the  hives. 
He  took  from  the  wall,  where  it  hung,  a  mask  of  iron  wire, 
put  it  on,  and,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  went  into  the 
enclosure  kept  for  the  bees,  where  the  hives,  ranged  in  order, 
had  each  its  own  history  for  him.  There,  amongst  the  buzz- 
ing insects,  he  was  glad  to  find  himself  alone  for  a  moment, 
to  reflect,  and  collect  his  thoughts.  He  felt  practical  life 
asserting  its  rights,  and  making  havoc  of  his  ideals.  He 
remembered  how  he  had  already  been  angry  with  his  coach- 
man, Ivan,  had  spoken  coolly  to  his  brother,  and  talked 
foolishly  with  Katavasof. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  my  happiness  was  only  a  transi- 
tory feeling,  that  will  pass  away,  and  leave  nothing  behind?  " 

But  at  the  same  moment  as  he  analyzed  his  state  of  mind, 
he  felt  with  joy  that  his  experience  had  left  new  and  impor- 
tant results.  Practical  life  had  only  temporarily  spread  a 
cloudy  film  over  his  inward  calm.  Just  as  the  bees,  buzzing 
around  him,  threatened  him,  and  robbed  him  of  his  physical 
calm,  and  compelled  him  to  defend  himself ;  so  did  the  cares 
which  surrounded  him,  as  he  sat  in  his  little  telytya,  disturb 
his  spiritual  calm.  But  the  annoyance  lasted  only  while  he 
was  among  them  :  and  as  his  physical  strength,  notwithstand- 
ing the  bees,  was  still  unharmed  ;  so  his  spiritual  strength, 
newly  created,  was  also  in  reality  complete. 


XV. 

"  Do  you  know,  Kostia,  whom  Sergei  Ivanuitch  found  on 
the  train?"  said  Dolly,  after  she  had  given  her  children 
their  cucumbers  and  honey. 

"  Vrousky.     He's  going  to  Serbia." 

"  Da  !  and  not  alone  either.  He's  taking  out  a  squadron 
of  cavalry  at  his  own  expense,"  added  Katavasof. 

"  That's  like  him,"  answered  Levin.  "  But  are  you  still 
sending  off  volunteers?"  added  he,  looking  at  Sergei  Ivan- 
ovitch. 


758  ANNA   KAEfiNINA. 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  was  busy  rescuing  a  live  bee  from  the 
honey  that  had  flowed  out  of  the  white  honeycomb  at  the 
bottom  of  his  cup.  and  he  did  not  answer. 

"  Da!  I  should  think  so  !  "  said  Katavasof,  biting  into  a 
cucumber.  "If  you  had  only  seen  them  at  the  station  this 
morning ! ' ' 

"  Nu!  what  an  idea  this  is  !  For  Heaven's  sake,  tell  me, 
Sergei  Ivanovitch,  where  all  these  volunteers  are  going,  and 
whom  are  they  going  to  fight  with?  "  asked  the  old  prince. 

"  With  the  Turks,"  answered  Serg6i  Ivanovitch,  smiling 
quietly,  as  he  at  last  rescued  the  helpless  bee  on  the  point  of 
his  knife,  and  set  him  on  an  aspen-leaf. 

"But  who  has  declared  war  on  the  Turks?  Is  it  the 
Countess  Lidia  Ivanovna  and  Madame  Stahl?  " 

1 '  Xo  one  has  declared  war ;  but  the  people  sympathize 
with  their  oppressed  brethren,  and  want  to  help  them." 

"  The  prince  was  not  speaking  of  help,  but  of  Avar,"  said 
Levin,  coming  to  the  assistance  of  his  father-in-law.  "  The 
prince  means  that  private  persons  ought  not  to  take  part  in 
a  war  without  being  authorized  by  the  government." 

"  Kostia,  look  out!  there's  a  bee!  Won't  he  sting?" 
cried  Dolly. 

"  Da!  that  isn't  a  bee  :  that's  a  wasp  !  "  said  Levin. 

"  Nu-$,  nu-s!  give  us  your  theory,"  demanded  Katavasof, 
evidently  provoking  Levin  to  a  discussion.  "  Why  shouldn't 
private  persons  have  that  right?" 

"  Da!  my  theory  is  this :  war  on  the  one  hand  is  such  a 
terrible,  such  an  atrocious,  thing,  that  no  man,  especially  no 
Christian  man,  has  the  right  to  assume  the  responsibility  of 
beginning  it ;  but  it  belongs  to  government  alone,  when  it 
becomes  inevitable.  On  the  other  hand,  in  common  sense, 
where  there  are  state  questions,  and  above  all  in  matters 
concerning  war,  private  citizens  have  no  right  to  use  their 
own  wills." 

Sergei  Ivanovitch  and  Katavasof  were  both  ready  at  the 
same  instant  with  answers. 

"That's  where  you're  mistaken,  bdthishka,"  said  the 
latter.  "There  may  be  cases  when  government  doesn't 
carry  out  the  will  of  its  citizens,  and  then  society  declares 
its  own  will." 

But  Sergei  Ivanovitch  did  not  approve  of  this  repl}*.  He 
frowned  as  Katavasof  spoke,  and  said  sternly,  — 

"You  put  the  question  all  wrong.     Here  there  is  no  dec- 


ANNA   KARtiNINA.  759 

laration  of  war,  but  simply  ^an  expression  of  human,  of 
Christian  sympathy.  Our  brethren,  men  of  the  same  blood, 
the  same  faith,  are  butchered.  Nu!  we  do  not  look  upon 
them  only  as  men  and  as  co-religionists,  but  purely  as  women, 
children,  old  men.  The  feelings  are  stirred,  and  the  whole 
Russian  people  fly  to  help  check  these  horrors.  Suppose 
3'ou  were  walking  in  the  street,  and  saw  a  drunken  man 
beating  a  woman  or  a  child.  I  think  you  would  not  stop  to 
ask  whether  war  has  been  declared  before  you  attacked  the 
man,  and  protected  the  object  of  his  fury." 

"  No  ;  but  I  would  not  kill  him." 

"  Yes,  you  might  even  kill  him." 

"  I  don't  know.  If  I  saw  such  a  sight,  I  might  yield  to 
the  immediate  feeling.  I  cannot  tell  how  it  would  be.  But 
in  the  oppression  of  the  Slavs,  there  is  not,  and  cannot  be, 
such  a  powerful  motive." 

"  Perhaps  not  for  you,  but  other  people  think  differently," 
said  Sergei  Ivanovitch  angrily.  "The  people  still  keep  the 
tradition  of  sympathy  with  brethren  of  the  orthodox  faith, 
who  are  groaning  under  the  yoke  of  the  infidel.  The}'  have 
heard  of  their  terrible  sufferings,  and  are  aroused." 

"That  maybe,"  answered  Levin  in  a  conciliatory  tone, 
r'  only  I  don't  see  it.  I  myself  am  one  of  the  people,  and 
I  don't  feel  it." 

"I  can  say  the  same,"  put  in  the  old  prince.  "  I  was 
living  abroad  :  I  read  the  newspapers,  and  I  learned  about 
the  Bulgarian  atrocities  ;  but  I  never  could  understand  why 
all  Russia  took  such  a  sudden  fancy  for  their  Slavic  brethren. 
I  am  sure  I  never  felt  the  slightest  love  for  them.  I  was 
greatly  ashamed.  I  thought  I  must  be  either  a  monster,  or 
that  Carlsbad  had  a  bad  effect  on  me.  But  since  I  have 
come  back,  I  don't  feel  stirred  at  all ;  and  I  find  that  I  am 
not  the  only  one  who  is  not  so  much  interested  in  the  Slav 
brethren  as  in  Russia.  Here  is  Konstantin." 

"Private  opinions  are  of  no  consequence  —  there  is  no 
meaning  in  private  opinions  —  when  all  Russia,  when  the 
whole  people,  signified  what  they  wished,"  said  Sergei  Ivan- 
ovitch. 

"Da!  Excuse  me.  I  don't  see  this.  The  people  don't 
know  any  thing,"  said  the  prince. 

"But,  papa,  how  about  that  Sunday  in  church?"  said 
Dolly,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  conversation. —  "Get 
me  a  towel,  please,"  she  said  in  an  aside  to  the  old  bee- 


760  ANNA 

deeper,  who  was  looking  at  the  children  with  a  friendly 
smile. 

"Z)a/  What  happens  at  church  ?  They  tell  the  priest  to 
read  a  prayer.  He  reads  it.  Nobody  understands  one  word. 
They  snore  just  as  they  do  during  the  whole  sermon.  Then 
they  tell  them  that  the  salvation  of  their  souls  is  in  question  ; 
but  how,  they  haven't  the  least  idea.  Nu!  Then  they  pull 
out  their  kopeks,  and  give  them." 

"The  people  cannot  know  their  destiny.  They  have  an 
instinctive  feeling,  and  at  times  like  these  they  show  it," 
said  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  looking  at  the  old  bee-keeper. 

The  handsome,  tall  old  man,  with  his  black  beard,  wherein 
a  few  gray  hairs  were  beginning  to  show,  and  with  his  thick, 
silvery  hair,  stood  motionless,  holding  a  cup  of  honey  in  his 
hand,  looking  at  the  gentlemen  with  a  mild,  placid  air,  evi- 
dently not  understanding  a  word  of  the  conversation,  nor 
caring  to  understand. 

He  nodded  his  head  with  deliberation  as  he  heard  Sergei 
Ivanovitch's  words,  and  said, — 

"That's  certainly  so." 

"  Z)u,  vot!  Ask  him  about  it,"  said  Levin.  "  He  doesn't 
know.  He  doesn't  think.  —  Have  you  heard  about  the 
war,  Mikhai'luitch? "  asked  he  of  the  old  man.  "You 
know  what  was  read  on  Sunday  at  church,  don't  you? 
What  do  you  think?  Ought  we  to  fight  for  the  Christians  ?'" 

"  Why  should  we  think?  Our  Emperor  Aleksander  Niko- 
laj'evitch  will  think  for  us,  as  in  every  thing  else.  He  kno\vs 
what  to  do. —  Should  you  like  some  more  bread?"  asked 
he,  turning  to  Darya  Aleksaudrovna,  and  pointing  to  Grisha, 
who  was  munching  a  crust. 

"  What's  the  use  of  asking  him?  "  said  Sergei  Ivanuitch. 
"  We  have  seen,  and  still  see,  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
men  abandoning  all  they  possess,  giving  their  last  penny, 
enlisting  and  trooping  from  every  corner  of  Russia,  all  with 
the  same  object.  Do  you  mean  that  that  signifies  nothing?  " 

"  It  signifies,  in  my  opinion,"  said  Levin,  beginning  to 
get  excited,  "  that  out  of  eighty  millions  of  men,  there  will 
always  be  found  hundreds,  and  even  thousands,  who  have 
lost  their  social  position,  are  restless,  and  so  throw  them- 
selves into  the  first  adventure  that  comes  along,  whether  it 
is  to  follow  Pugatchef,  or  to  go  to  Serbia." 

"I  tell  you  they  are  not  adventurers  who  devote  them- 
selves to  this  work,  but  they  are  the  best  representatives  of 


ANNA  KARfiNINA.  761 

the  nation,"  cried  Sergei  Ivanuitch  excitedly,  as  though  he 
were  defending  his  last  position.  "  There  are  the  contribu- 
tions :  isn't  that  a  test  of  popular  feeling?  " 

"That  word  'people'  is  so  vague.  Perhaps  one  in  a 
thousand  among  the  peasants  understands,  but  the  rest  of 
the  eighty  millions  do  as  Mikbailuitch  here  does.  They  not 
only  don't  show  their  will,  but  they  haven't  the  slightest  idea 
that  they  have  any  will  to  show.  How,  then,  can  we  say 
that  this  is  the  will  of  the  people?  " 


XVI. 

SERGEI  IVANOVITCH  was  skilled  in  dialectics,  and  he  took 
up  another  side  of  the  question. 

"Da/  if  you  want  to  get  at  the  mind  of  the  nation,  of 
course  it  will  be  very  hard  work.  We  have  not  the  proper 
gifts,  and  cannot  reckon  it  that  wa}-.  But  there  are  other 
means  of  learning  it  besides  arithmetic.  It  is  felt  in  the 
air,  it  is  felt  in  the  heart,  not  to  speak  of  those  subterra- 
nean currents  which"  have  shaken  the  mass  of  the  people. 
Take  society  in  a  narrower  sense.  Take  the  intelligent 
classes,  and  see  how  on  this  point  even  the  most  hostile 
parties  combine.  There  is  no  longer  a  difference  of  opin- 
ions :  all  the  organs  of  society  express  the  same  thing. 
They  have  all  become  aware  of  an  elemental  force  which  fills 
the  nation  with  its  own  motive-power." 

"Yes;  the  newspapers  all  say  the  same  thing;  that  is 
true,"  said  the  old  prince:  "but  then,  so  do  all  the  frogs 
croak  before  a  storm.  That  doesn't  signify  much." 

"Whether  frogs  or  not,  —  I  don't  edit  newspapers,  and 
I  don't  set  up  to  defend  them.  I  am  talking  of  the  unan- 
imity of  opinion  among  intelligent  people,"  said  Serge" i  Ivan- 
ovitch,  turning  to  his  brother. 

Levin  was  about  to  reply,  but  the  old  prince  took  the 
words  from  his  mouth. 

"Nu!  there's  a  reason  for  that  unanimity.  Here's  my 
son-in-law,  Stepan  Arkadyevitch,  as  you  know,  who  has  just 
been  appointed  member  of  some  committee,  commission,  or 
other, — I  don't  know  what,  —  with  eight  thousand  rubles 
salary,  and  nothing  to  do.  —  Now,  Dolly,  that's  not  a  secret. 
—  Ask  him  if  his  office  is  useful:  he  will  tell  you  that  it  is 
indispensable.  And  he  is  an  upright  man ;  but  you  could 


762  ANNA   KAR&NINA. 

not  make  him  cease  to  believe  in  his  full  eight  thousand 
salary." 

"Oh,  yes  !  he  told  me  to  tell  Darya  Aleksandrovna  that  he 
had  got  that  place,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch. 

"  The  newspapers  are  unanimous.  War  will  double  their 
circulation  ;  and,  of  course,  they  will  support  the  Slavic 
question  for  you  and  the  national  instinct." 

"  I  don't  like  the  papers  much ;  but  you  are  unjust,"  said 
Sergei  Ivanovitch. 

"I  will  only  add  one  more  suggestion,"  said  the  old 
prince.  "  Alphonse  Karr  wrote  a  clever  thing  just  before  the 
Franco-Prussian  war,  when  he  said,  '  You  say  this  war  is 
absolutely  necessary  ;  very  good  :  go  to  the  front,  then,  and 
be  under  the  first  fire,  and  lead  the  first  onslaught.'  ' 

"Good  editors  would  be  glad  to  do  that,"  said  Katavasof, 
smiling,  and  trying  to  imagine  certain  editorial  friends  of  his 
in  this  chosen  legion. 

"Yes;  but  when  they  ran  away,"  said  Dolly,  "they'd 
bother  the  others." 

"  Just  as  soon  as  they  begin  to  run  put  a  mitrailleuse  be- 
hind them,  or  some  Cossacks  with  whips,"  said  the  prince. 

"Da!  that's  a  joke,  but  not  a  very  good  joke:  excuse 
me,  prince,"  said  Sergei  Ivanovitch. 

"I  don't  think  it  was  a  joke,"  said  Levin  :  "  it  was  " — 

But  his  brother  interrupted  him. 

"Every  member  of  society  is  called  upon  to  do  his  duty, 
and  thoughtful  men  perform  theirs  by  giving  expression  to 
public  opinion  ;  and  the  unanimous  and  full  expression  of 
public  opinion  is  creditable  to  the  press,  and  at  the  same 
time  a  good  symptom.  Twenty  years  ago  the  world  would 
have  kept  quiet :  to-day  the  voice  of  the  Russian  people  is 
heard,  demanding,  like  one  man,  to  avenge  its  brethren.  It 
is  a  great  step  taken,  —  a  proof  of  power." 

"The  people  are  certainly  ready  enough  for  sacrifices 
where  the  salvation  of  their  souls  is  concerned,  but  not  for 
killing  Turks,"  said  Levin,  involuntarily  connecting  this  con- 
versation with  the  thoughts  of  the  morning. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  soul?  That,  to  a  naturalist,  you 
must  remember,  is  a  veiy  vague  term.  What  is  the  soul?  " 
demanded  Katavasof,  with  a  smile. 

ltAchl    You  know." 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  haven't  the  least  idea  ;  "  and  the  pro- 
fessor broke  into  a  burst  of  laughter. 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  763 

"Christ  said,  'I  am  come  not  to  bring  peace,  but  a 
sword,'  "  remarked  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  quoting  a  passage 
from  the  Gospel,  which  had  always  troubled  Levin. 

"That's  just  so."  repeated  the  old  bee-keeper,  who  had 
been  standing  near  them,  in  response  to  a  chance  look  di- 
rected to  him. 

"  Come,  bdtiuahka,  you're  beaten,  you're  beaten,  —  wholly 
beaten  !  "  cried  Katavasof  gayly. 

Levin  reddened  with  vexation,  not  because  he  was  beaten, 
but  because  he  had  been  drawn  into  discussion  again. 

"No:  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  dispute  with  them,"  he 
thought:  "their  armor  is  impenetrable,  and  I  am  defence- 
less." 

He  saw  that  he  could  not  defeat  his  brother  and  Katava- 
sof, and  it  was  equally  impossible  to  agree  with  them.  He 
could  not  admit  that  it  was  right  for  a  handful  of  men,  his 
brother  among  them,  to  claim  to,  represent,  with  the  news- 
papers, the  will  of  the  nation,  —  especially  when  that  will 
called  for  vengeance  and  butchery,  and  when  their  whole 
case  rested  on  the  doubtful  stories  of  a  few  hundreds  of 
miserable  fellows  in  search  of  adventures.  In  his  opinion, 
there  was  no  confirmation  of  these  assertions.  The  people 
—  and  he  felt  that  he  was  one  of  them,  a  representative  of 
the  great  Russian  people  —  would  never  regard  war  as  a 
boon,  whatever  its  object.  If  public  opinion  was  infallible, 
why  were  not  the  Revolution  and  the  Commune  as  legitimate 
as  the  war  for  the  assistance  of  the  Slavs  ? 

Levin  would  have  liked  to  express  these  opinions  ;  but  he 
imagined  that  the  discussion  was  irritating  his  brother,  and 
that  it  would  end  in  nothing  ;  so  he  held  his  peace,  and  called 
the  attention  of  his  guests  to  the  shower  that  was  threaten- 
ing, and  advised  a  hasty  return  to  the  house. 


XVII. 

THE  prince  and  Sergei  Ivanovitch  got  ipto  the  telyfya, 
while  the  rest  of  the  group  hastened  along  on  foot. 

But  the  black,  threatening  storm-cloud  was  coming  up  so 
fast,  and  the  wind  drove  up  the  low,  smoke-like  masses  so 
rapidly,  that  the  rain  was  all  but  on  them  when  they  were 
still  quite  a  distance  from  the  house. 

The    children    ran   on   ahead,    laughing   and   screaming. 


764  ANNA  KARtiNINA. 

Doll}7,  hindered  by  her  dress,  tried  to  keep  up  with  them. 
The  gentlemen  followed  with  long  strides,  clinging  to  their 
hats.  At  last,  just  as  they  reached  the  porch,  the  great 
drops  began  to  rattle  on  the  iron  spout. 

••Where  is  Kateriua  Aleksanclrovna? "  demanded  Levin 
of  Agafya  Mikhai'lovna,  who  was  coming  out  of  the  door, 
loaded  with  shawls  and  umbrellas. 

"  We  supposed  she  was  with  you." 

"And  Mitya?" 

"  Must  be  in  the  Kolok  woods  with  his  nurse." 

Levin  seized  the  shawls,  and  started  to  run.  In  the  few 
minutes  that  had  elapsed,  the  storm  had  reached  beyond  the 
sun,  and  it  was  as  dark  as  though  there  was  an  eclipse.  The 
wind  blew  like  a  tornado,  making  the  leaves  fly,  twisting 
the  branches  of  the  birches,  bending  the  trees,  plants,  and 
flowers,  and  almost  presenting  a  barrier  to  Levin's  passage. 
The  fields  and  the  forest  disappeared  behind  a  curtain  of 
rain,  and  all  those  who  were  caught  outside  by  the  storm  ran 
to  shelter. 

Bending  his  head,  and  fighting  vigorously  against  the  gale, 
which  tugged  at  his  shawls,  Levin  advanced  as  best  he  could. 
He  thought  he  already  saw  white  forms  behind  a  well-known 
oak,  when  suddenly  a  glare  of  light  seemed  to  burst  from 
the  ground  before  him,  and  the  vault  of  the  sky  abov.e  him 
to  fall  with  a  crash.  When  he  opened  his  dazzled  eyes,  he 
looked  through  the  thick  curtain  formed  by  the  rain,  which 
cut  him  off  from  the  Kolok  woods,  and  saw,  to  his  horror, 
that  the  green  top  of  a  well-known  oak  had  disappeared. 

"Can  the  lightning  have  struck  it?  "  he  had  time  to  ex- 
claim ;  and  instantly  he  heard  the  sound  of  the  oak-tree  fall- 
ing with  a  crash,  and  carrying  with  it  the  neighboring  trees. 
"  My  God  !  my  God  !  keep  them  safe,"  he  murmured,  rigid 
with  fear ;  and  though  he  instantly  felt  the  absurdity  of  the 
prayer,  since  the  harm  would  have  been  already  done,  he 
nevertheless  said  it  over  and  over,  for  he  knew  that,  absurd 
as  it  was,  he  could  not  do  any  thing  else  to  help  them.  He 
hastened  towarxls  the  spot  where  they  generally  went,  but  he 
did  not  find  them.  They  were  in  another  part  of  the  woods 
under  an  old  linden,  and  they  saw  him.  Two  figures  dressed 
in  dark  clothes  —  they  usually  wore  white  —  were  crouching 
under  the  trees.  It  was  Kitty  and  the  nurse.  The  rain  had 
stopped,  but  it  was  still  lightening  when  Levin  reached  them. 
The  nurse  was  diy,  but  Kitty  was  wet  through.  They  were 


ANNA   KARfiNINA.  705 

standing  just  as  they  had  been  when  the  shower  began, 
though  it  was  no  longer  necessary.  Both  were  leaning  over 
the  baby-carriage,  and  protecting  Mitya  with  their  sunshades. 

"Alive?  safe?  God  be  praised!  "  he  cried,  as  he  ran  to 
them  with  his  shoes  full  of  water.  "  Nu!  how  could  3-011  do 
such  a  foolish  thing?  I  can't  understand  it,"  Levin  began 
with  vexation  as  he  saw  Kitty's  glowing  and  wet  face,  under 
her  shapeless  hat,  turned  to  him. 

"  I  assure  you,  it  was  not  my  fault.  We  were  just  going 
when  "  — 

"JVw/  God  be  thanked  that  you're  safe  and  sound!  I 
don't  know  what  I'm  saying." 

They  hastily  picked  up  the  wet  things,  the  nurse  took  the 
baby,  and  Levin,  ashamed  of  his  vexation,  gave  his  arm  to 
his  wife,  and  led  her  away,  pressing  her  hand  gently. 


XVIII. 

IN  spite  of  his  feeling  of  having  been  -deceived,  as  he 
discovered  that  his  moral  regeneration  had  not  materially 
changed  his  nature  for  the  better,  Levin  felt  none  the  less, 
all  the  rest  of  the  day,  a  sensation  of  jo}-  which  filled  his 
heart  to  overflowing.  He  took  but  a  small  part  in  the  con- 
versation ;  but  the  time  passed  gayly,  and  Katavasof  made  a 
conquest  of  the  ladies  by  the  originality  of  his  wit.  He  was 
drawn  out  by  Sergei  Ivanovitch,  and  amused  them,  and  in- 
terested them  greatly,  by  telling  of  his  researches  into  the 
different  characteristics  and  features  of  male  and  female 
flies,  and  of  their  habits.  Sergei  Ivanovitch  was  very  gay  ; 
and  at  tea,  he  explained  the  future  of  the  Eastern  question  so 
simply  and  well,  that  all  could  follow  him.  Kitty  alone  did 
not  hear  him  :  she  was  occupied  with  Mitya.  The  day  ended 
pleasantly  without  irritating  discussions.  As  the  atmos- 
phere had  been  cooled  by  the  storm,  they  staid  in  the  house. 

Kitty,  who  was  obliged  to  give  Mitya  his  bath,  left  with 
regret ;  and  a  few  minutes  after,  a  message  was  brought  to 
Levin,  that  she  wanted  to  see  him.  It  made  him  anxious. 
He  rose  at  once,  in  spite  of  the  interest  he  felt  in  his  brother's 
theory  as  to  the  influence  of  the  emancipation  of  forty  mil- 
lions of  Slavs  upon  the  future  of  Russia.  What  could  they 
want  with  him  ?  They  never  called  him  to  go  to  the  child 
except  in  a  case  of  emergency.  But  his  anxiety,  us  well  as 


766  ANNA  KAEfiNINA. 

the  curiosity  that  had  been  roused  bj-  his  brother's  ideas,  dis- 
appeared as  soon  as  he  found  himself  alone  for  a  moment, 
aud  his  secret  happiness  came  back  to  him,  clear  and  strong 
as  in  the  morning,  without  his  needing  to  awaken  it  by  re- 
flection. The  feeling  had  become  independent  of  the  thought. 
He  walked  along  the  terrace,  and  saw  two  stars  glowing  in 
the  sky. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  as  I  looked  at  the  heavens, 
I  thought  there  was  a  truth  in  the  delusion  that  this,  which 
I  am  gazing  at,  was  a  solid  vault.  But  there  was  the  some- 
thing that  remained  half  thought  out  in  my  mind,  —  something 
that  I  hid  from  myself.  Now,  what  was  it?  There  cannot 
be  an  answer." 

But  as  he  entered  the  child's  chamber,  he  remembered 
what  it  was  that  he  hid  from  himself.  It  was  this  :  — 

"  If  the  chief  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  lies  in  the 
inward  revelation  of  good  and  evil  which  He  has  given  to 
each  of  us,  why  should  this  revelation  be  limited  to  the 
Christian  Church?  How  about  those  millions  of  Buddhists 
and  Mohammedans,  who  are  also  seeking  for  the  truth?  " 

It  seemed  to  him  that  there  must  be  an  answer  to  this 
question,  but  he  could  not  find  and  express  it  before  enter- 
ing the  room. 

Kitty,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  was  bending  over  the 
bath-tubt  where  she  was  holding  up  the  baby's  head  with 
one  hand  while  she  sponged  him  with  the  other.  She  turned 
towards  her  husband  as  she  heard  his  steps. 

"  Nu,  vot!  look,  look!  Agafya  Mikhailovna  is  right:  he 
knows  us." 

The  fact  was,  that  Mitya  to-day  for  the  first  time  gave 
indubitable  proof  that  he  knew  his  friends. 

As  soon  as  Levin  went  to  the  bath-tub,  the  experiment 
w;is  successful.  They  brought  up  a  cook  who  had  not  seen 
the  baby  much.  The  baby  frowned,  and  shook  his  head. 
Kitty  came  to  him,  and  he  smiled,  and  stretched  out  his  hand 
to  her,  so  that  not  only  the  mother  and  the  nurse,  but  Levin 
himself,  were  enchanted.  The}-  took  the  baby  from  the 
water,  wiped  him,  and,  after  he  had  expressed  his  disappro- 
bation with  a  piercing  scream,  they  gave  him  to  his  mother. 

"  Nu!  I'm  very  glad  to  see  that  you  begin  to  love  him," 
said  Kitty,  as  she  sat  down  in  a  comfortable  seat,  with  the 
child  at  her  breast.  "I  am  very  glad.  It  really  alarmed 
me  when  you  said  you  hadn't  any  feeling  for  him." 


ANNA  KAR£NINA.  767 

"  No  !  did  I  say  that  I  did  not  care  for  him?  I  only  said 
that  my  illusions  had  gone." 

"How  so?" 

"  I  wasn't  disappointed  in  him,  but  in  the  feeling  that  he 
would  arouse.  I  expected  more.  I  expected  as  a  surprise 
some  new  and  pleasant  feeling  ;  and  instead  of  that,  it  was 
pity,  disgust"  — 

She  listened  to  him  as  she  put  on  her  rings,  which  she  had 
taken  off  while  bathing  the  baby. 

"  And  more  of  fear  and  pity  than  of  satisfaction.  I  never 
knew  until  to-day,  after  the  storm,  how  I  loved  him." 

Kitty  smiled  with  radiant  joy. 

"  Were  you  very  much  afraid?  And  I  was  too.  But  I'm 
still  more  afraid  now  that  I  see  the  danger  we  were  in.  I 
shall  go  and  look  at  the  oak  to-morrow.  How  nice  Kata- 
vusof  is!  Da!  the  whole  da}*  has  been  so  pleasant.  You 
are  so  delightful  with  your  brother  when  you  want  to  be. 
Na  !  go  to  them.  It  is  always  hot  and  close  here  after  the 
bath." 

XIX. 

LEVIN,  on  leaving  the  nursery,  began  to  follow  out  the 
thought  that  had  been  obscure. 

Instead  of  going  back  to  the  parlor,  where  he  heard  the 
sound  of  voices,  he  leaned  over  the  balustrade  of  the  terrace, 
and  looked  at  the  sky.  There  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  south, 
but  it  was  still  lowering  in  the  opposite  quarter.  From  time 
to  time  there  would  be  a  glare  of  lightning,  followed  by  the 
distant  rumbling  of  the  thunder.  Levin  looked  at  the  stars 
and  the  Milky  Way,  and  listened  to  the  drops  of  rain  falling 
rhythmically  from  the  leaves  of  the  trees.  When  the  light- 
ning flashed,  the  stars  would  disappear  from  his  vision. 
Then  they  would  re-appear,  one  by  one,  resuming  their 
places  as  if  a  careful  hand  had  re-adjusted  them  in  the  firma- 
ment. 

"Nu!  What  is  it  that  troubles  me?"  he  asked  himself, 
feeling,  as  he  did  so,  a  response  in  his  soul  which  as  yet  he 
was  unable  to  define.  "  Yes,  it  is  the  laws  of  good  and 
evil  revealed  in  the  world  which  are  the  proof,  the  evideat, 
unimpeachable  proof,  of  the  existence  of  God.  These  laws 
I  recognize  as  at  the  very  centre  of  my  being ;  and  so  I  am 
bound  by  them,  willingly  or  unwillingly,  to  those  others  who 


768  ANNA   KARtiNINA. 

recognize  them  as  well ;  and  this  union  of.  souls  sharing  a 
common  belief  is  called  the  Church.  Nu!  but  Hebrews, 
Mohammedans,  Buddhists,  are  the}*  in  the  same  relation?" 
he  asked  himself,  recurring  to  the  dilemma  which  had  threat- 
ened him.  u  Can  these  millions  be  deprived  of  the  greatest 
of  blessings,  of  that  which  alone  gives  a  meaning  to  life?" 
He  paused.  "  The  question  which  I  am  asking  is  the  ques- 
tion of  the  relation  of  the  various  forms  of  human  belief  to 
Divinity.  It  is  the  revelation  of  God  to  the  universe,  with 
all  its  planets  and  starry  systems,  which  I  am  presuming  to 
fathom.  And  at  the  moment  when  knowledge,  sure,  though 
inaccessible  to  reason,  is  revealed  to  me,  shall  I  still  "persist 
in  dragging  logic  in  ?  " 

"  Do  I  know  that  the  stars  do  not  move,"  said  he,  noticing 
the  change  that  had  taken  place  iu  the  position  of  the 
brilliant  planet  which  he  had  seen  rising  over  the  birches  ; 
"  but  seeing  the  slars  change  place,  and  not  being  able  to 
imagine  the  revolution  of  the  earth,  then  I  should  be  right  in 
saying  that  they  moved.  Would  not  the  astronomers  have 
made  no  calculations,  and  gained  no  knowledge,  if  they  had 
taken  into  consideration  the  vaiied  and  complicated  motions 
of  the  earth?  Have  not  their  marvellous  conclusions  as  to 
the  distances,  the  weight,  the  motions,  and  revolutions  of  the 
celestial  bodies  all  been  based  upon  the  apparent  movements 
of  the  stars  around  a  motionless  earth,  —  these  very  move- 
ments which  I  now  witness,  as  millions  of  men  for  centuries 
have  witnessed  them,  and  which  can  alwaj's  be  verified? 
And  just  as  the  conclusions  of  the  astronomers  would  have 
been  inaccurate  and  false  if  they  had  not  been  based  upon 
their  observations  of  the  heavens  such  as  they  appeared  rel- 
atively to  a  single  meridian  and  a  single  horizon,  so  all  my 
conclusions  as  to  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil  would  be 
lacking  if  I  did  not  connect  them  with  the  revelation  of 
these  which  Christianity  has  made,  which  my  soul  can  always 
verify.  The  relations  of  human  belief  to  God  must,  for  me, 
remain  unfathomable :  to  search  them  out  belongs  not  to 
me." 

"  Haven't  you  gone  in  yet?  "  said  Kitty's  voice,  suddenly. 
"•  There's  nothing  that  troubles  you,  is  there?"  asked  she, 
looking  wistfully  up  into  her  husband's  face.  By  the  light 
of  a  flash  of  lightning  on  the  horizon,  she  saw  that  he  was 
calm  and  happy,  and  she  smiled. 

"  She  understands  me,"  thought  he.     "  She  knows  what 


ANNA   KARlSNINA.  769 

I  am  thinking.  Shall  I  tell  her,  or  not?  Yes,  I  will  tell 
her." 

But  just  as  he  was  about  to  speak,  Kitty  broke  in. 

"  Kostia,"  said  she,  "  do  go;  there's  a  good  fellow,  and 
take  a  look  at  Sergei  Ivanovitch's  chamber,  and  see  if  it's 
all  right.  I'm  so  tired  !  " 

"Certainly,  I'll  go,"  answered  Levin,  rising,  and  kissing 
her. 

"No;  better  be  silent,"  thought  he,  as  she  turned  back 
into  the  parlor :  "  this  secret  has  no  importance  save  for  me 
alone,  and  my  words  could  not  explain  it.  This  new  feeling 
has  neither  changed  me  nor  blinded  me  nor  made  me  happy, 
as  I  thought.  Just  as  neither  surprise  nor  rapture  took  the 
place  of  paternal  love,  so  it  has  been  here.  The  feeling 
stole  into  my  soul  through  suffering ;  and  it  is  faith,  —  not 
faith,  —  I  do  not  know  what  it  means.  I  shall  probably  con- 
tinue to  be  vexed  with  Ivan  the  coachman,  and  get  into  use- 
less discussions,  and  express  my  thoughts  blunderingly.  I 
shall  always  be  blaming  my  wife  for  what  annoys  me,  and 
repenting  at  once.  I  shall  alwa3's  feel  a  certain  barrier  be- 
tween the  sanctuary  of  my  inmost  soul,  and  the  souls  of 
others,  even  my  wife's.  I  shall  continue  to  pray  without 
being  able  to  explain  to  myself  why,  but  my  inward  life  has 
conquered  its  liberty.  It  will  be  no  longer  at  the  mercy  of 
circumstances  ;  and  my  whole  life,  every  moment  of  my  life, 
will  be,  not  meaningless  as  before,  but  full  of  deep  meaning, 
which  I  shall  have  power  to  impress  on  every  action." 


GLOSSAEY. 


Ach  (akh) Oh,  ah,  ha,  alas. 

Arshin 2.333  feet,  .711  meter. 

Artel Labor  union. 

Artelshchik Kailroarl  porter. 

Baba  (pi.  babui) Peasant-woman;  literally,  woman. 

Babka Midwife,  grandmother. 

Barin Lord,  master. 

Baruina Lady,  mistress. 

Baruishna Unmarried  lady. 

Bashluik A  Caucasian  hood. 

Bashiuak Shoes,  slippers. 

Batiushka Little  father. 

Batiushki Ye  gods  (little  fathers). 

Botvinya Vegetable  soup  and  kvas. 

Bozhe  mo'i My  God,  good  heavens. 

Burlak River-boatman,  clown. 

Caviare Roe  of  sturgeon. 

Da,  Da  tchto Exclamation ;     literally,     yes,     yes, 

what? 

Da,  vot Literally,  yes,  here. 

Datcha Summer  villa. 

Denshchik Officer's  servant. 

Desyatin 2.7  acres,  1.092  hektars. 

Domovo'i Household  spirit  dwelling  behind  the 

stove. 

Drozhky Carriage. 

Dusha,  dushka,  diishenka    .     .  Terms  of  endearment;  little  soul. 

Dvornik Janitor,  choreman   (one   who  tends 

the  dvor  or  courtyard). 

Dvorianstvo Nobility. 

Eka There! 

Ekonomka Housekeeper. 

Freilina Maid  of  honor. 

771 


772  GLOSSARY. 

Furazhka Forage-cap. 

Golubtchik Darling. 

Infernalnai'a Infernal-room  (from  Italian). 

Ish-tui Look  you. 

Istopnik Stove-tender. 

Izba Peasant's  hut. 

Izvoshchik Hack-driver. 

Kaftan Coat. 

Kalatch Roll. 

Kak-zhe How. 

Kammer-junker Gentleman  of  the  bed-chamber. 

Kapelldiener Usher. 

Kasha Wheat  gruel. 

Katalshchik One    who    rents    skates;     literally, 

skater. 

Kepi Soldier's  cap. 

Kha,  kha! Exclamation. 

Khozyaika Mistress  of  a  house,  hostess. 

Khozyam Master,  host. 

Khozyaistvo Estate,  farming.    See  p.  344,  note. 

Kitel Linen  suit. 

Kondrato Conrad. 

Kopek $0.008. 

Krestianin,  krestianka    .     .    .  The  old  name  of  the  serf,  male  and 

female  peasant. 

Kvas Sour,  fermented  drink. 

Lasotchka Diminutive  of  Laska. 

Lavronty Lawrence. 

Lineika Two-seated  drozhky. 

Malchik Boy,  lad. 

Maman Mamma  (French). 

Masha Diminutive  Marya,  Mary. 

Matimatik Learned  man. 

Matushki Exclamation ;  literally,  little  mothers. 

Matushka Little  mother. 

Mazurka Cotillon,  the  german. 

Metayers Small  farmers. 

Muzhik Peasant,  diminutive  of  muzh,  a  man. 

Muzhitchok Little  old  muzhik. 

Natchalnik President,  chief,  head. 

Nu,  nu-s,  nu-ka Well. 

Oh  (okh) Oh. 

Papasha Diminutive  of  papa. 


GLOSSARY.  773 

Pavina Diminutive  of  Pava. 

Platok  .    , Handkerchief,  or  kerchief,  shawl. 

Pomyeshchik Proprietor,  land-owner. 

Predvoditel Marshal,  leader  of  the  nobility. 

Proshchai,  proshcha'ite    .     .     ,  Good-by. 

Prikashchik Superintendent. 

Pud Forty  pounds. 

Reka River,  wide  ditch. 

Rotraistr  gvardi Captain  of  the  guard. 

Ruble  (100  kopeks) 50-. 80  (whether  paper  or  silver). 

Samovar Tea-urn. 

Sazhen 7  feet,  2.134  meters. 

Serozha Diminutive  of  Sergei. 

Shafer Groomsman. 

Shapka Cap. 

Shch  i Cabbage  soup. 

Shuba,  shubka Fur  garments. 

Shuler One  who  cheats  at  cards. 

Shliupik Mushroom. 

Skotnik Cow-herd. 

Starik Old  man,  boss. 

Starosta Elder. 

Starshina Elder,  chief  of  a  commune. 

Sudar Sir. 

Swiss,  shveitsar;  Ger.  Schweit- 
zer    Inside  man. 

Tanchurotchka Diminutive  of  Tania. 

Tarantas Travelling  wagon. 

Tabula  rasa Blank  tablet  (Latin). 

Tchin The  order  of  official  rank  established 

by  Peter  the  Great. 

Tchinovnik Official. 

Telyega Cart,  wagon. 

Tiurka  (pi.  tiurki) Bread-crumb  soaked  in  fcpa^. 

Topchatchek Flail. 

Troika Three-horse  team. 

Tulup,  tuluptchika      ....  Sheep-skin  vest  or  coat. 

Verst 663  mile,  1.067  kilometer. 

Vodka Brandy. 

Vot Here. 

Zakuska Lunch. 

Xt-niski  doktor The  communal  doctor. 

Zemstvo Territorial  assembly. 


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Red  Letter  Pcems.     By  English  men  and  women.    Illustrated 
edition.    24  Full  Page  Illustrations.    8vo. 
Cloth,  gilt       .        .        .        $3.50  j  Morocco,  or  tree  calf          .          7.50 

George  Eliot's  Poems.    8vo.    Illustrated  edition. 
Cloth,  gilt        .        .        .          4.50  I  Morocco,  or  tree  calf          .          9.00 

George  Eliot's  Works.  8  vols.  12mo.  Cloth  .  .  .  10.00 
Hawthorne's  Complete  Works.  6  vols.  16mo.  Cloth  .  10.00 
Lytton's  (Bulwer)  Works.  13  vols.  12mo  ....  16.25 

Walton's  Complete  Angler.  With  86  Illustrations.  From 
Major's  4th  edition 2.00 

Charles  Lamb's  Works.    3  vols.    I2mo 3.75 

Disraeli's  Works.    6  vols.    12mo 7.50 

Milman's  Works.    8  vols.     12mo 12.00 

Dickens'  Works.    15  vols.    12mo       .        .        .        . '      .        .  18.75 

Thackeray's  Works.    11  vols.    12mo 13.75 

Waverley  Novels.    12  vols.    12mo 15.00 

Princes,  Authors  and  Statesmen  of  our  Time.  By  JAMES 
T.  FIELDS,  E.  P.  WHIPPLE,  CANON  FARRAR,  LOUISE  CHANDLER 
MOULTON  and  others,  with  50  Illustrations.  8vo  .  .  .  2.75 


The  Poor  Boy  and  the  Merchant  Prince;  OR,  THE  LIFE  OF 
AMOS  LAWRENCE.  ItJmo.  By  WILLIAM  M.  THAYER  .  ,  1.00 

The  Good  Girl  and  the  True  Woman;  OR,  THE  LIFE  OF 
MARY  LYON.  IGino.  By  WILLIAM  M.  THAYER  .  .  .  1.00 

Nelson ;  OR,  How  A  COUNTRY  BOY  MADE  HIS  WAY  IN  THE  CITY. 
Being  Incidents  in  the  Life  of  a  Successful  Merchant  of  Boston. 
16mo.  By  WILLIAM  M.  THAYER 1.25 

Poor  Boys  who  Became  Famous.  By  SARAH  K.  BOLTON. 
Short  biographical  sketches  of  George  Peabody,  Horace  Greeley, 
Bayard  Taylor,  Michael  Faraday,  and  other  Noted  People,  with 
numerous  portraits,  llimo 1.50 

General  Gordon,  The  Christian  Hero.  A  careful  and  well- 
written  life  of  this  Knightly  Soldier,  especially  adapted  to 
young  people.  12mo 1.25 

Little  Arthur's  England.  By  Lady  CALCOTT.  With  36  Illus- 
trations. Elegantly  printed  and  bound  in  red  cloth,  giving  in 
concise  and  easy  language  all  the  essential  facts  of  English  His- 
tory for  young  People.  12mo.  Cloth 1.25 

Little  Arthur's  France.  On  the  plan  of  Little  Arthur's 
England,  and  bound  in  uniform  style.  12mo  ....  1.25 

"Exceptionally  fitted  to  interest  and  instruct  young  people." — 
Boston  Advertiser. 

Off  to  the  Wilds.  By  GEO.  MANVILLE  FENN.  A  Story  of  Hunt- 
ing Adventures  in  South  Africa.  A  favorite  book  with  the  boys. 
Sq.  8vo.  Fully  Illustrated 1.75 

The  3Iutiny  on  Board  the  Leander.  By  BERNARD  HELD- 
MANN.  A  Story  of  Strange  Adventures  in  the  Southern  Pacific. 
Sq.  8vo.  24  Illustrations 1.75 

Martin  the  Skipper.  By  JAMES  F.  COBB,  author  of  "  The 
Watchers  on  the  Longships,"  etc.  A  Tale  for  Boys  and  Seafar- 
ing Folk.  12mo .  1.50 

The  Watchers  on  the  Longships.  By  JAMES  F.  COBB.  A 
Story  of  Thrilling  Interest,  founded  on  fact,  illustrating  Moral 
Heroism  and  Faithfulness  to  Duty.  12mo  .  .  .  .  1.50 

A  Home  In  the  Holy  Land.  By  MRS.  FINN.  An  excellent 
and  faithful  Description  of  Home  Life  in  the  Holy  Land  at  the 
Present  Day.  12mo 1.50 

The  Farmer  Boy ;  OR,  How  HE  BECAME  COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 
The  Life  of  George  Washington.  By  Uncle  Juvenal.  16mo  .  1.00 

A  Year  at  Poplar  Row.  By  MARCH  ELLIXWOOD.  A  noble 
ideal  of  Christian  Girlhood  and  Young  Womanhood.  12mo  .  1.25 

Hints  to  Our  Boys.  By  A.  J.  SYMINGTON,  with  an  Introduc- 
tion by  LYMAN  ABBOTT,  D.D.  Square  IGmo  ....  .75 

Abbott's  American  Histories  for  Youth.  8  vols.  Illustra- 
ted. 12mo,  810.00.  4  vols 6.00 

August  Stories.    4  vols.    Illustrated.    16mo     ....          4.50 

Juno  Stories.    4  vols.    Illustrated.    16mo          ....          4.50 

The  Jonas  Books.    6  vols.    Illustrated.    IGmo        .        .        .          5.00 

The  Lucy  Books.    6  vols.    Illustrated.    16mo         .        .        .          5.00 

The  Rpllo  Books.    14  vols.    Illustrated.    IGmo      .        .        .        12.00 

Millions  ot  copies  of  Jacob  Abbott's  books  have  been  sold,  and 
they  have  become  classics  among  the  Literature  for  children. 


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